PIETRO 
GHISLERI 

BY 

.  F-MA7HON 

CRAWFORD 


PIETRO   GHISLERI 


PIETRO    GHISLERI 


BY 


F.   MARION   CRAWFORD 

AUTHOR  OF   "  SAKACINESCA,"   "THE   THREE   FATES,"  ETC. 


gorfc 
MACMILLAN   &   CO. 

AND     LONDON 

1893 

All  rights  reserved 


•-   *-*«r  ~  \*r  I 

? 


a 


COPYRIGHT,  1892, 
BY  MACMILLAN  &  CO. 


XorfaooU 

J.  S.   Gushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith. 
Boston,  Mass.,   U.S.A. 


PIETRO    GKEISLERL 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE  relation  of  two  step-sisters  is  unusual.  When  the 
Honourable  Mrs.  Carlyon  came  to  Rome  twenty  years 
ago,  a  young  widow  and  the  mother  of  a  little  girl  named 
Laura,  she  did  not  foresee  the  complications  which  her 
second  marriage  was  to  produce.  She  was  a  good  woman 
in  her  way,  and  if  she  had  guessed  what  it  would  mean 
to  be  the  step-mother  of  Adele  Braccio  she  might  have 
hesitated  before  marrying  Camillo  of  that  name,  com 
monly  known  as  the  Prince  of  Gerano.  For  the  Prince 
had  also  been  married  before,  and  his  first  wife  had  left 
him  this  one  child,  Adele,  who  was  only  a  year  and  a 
half  older  than  little  Laura  Carlyon.  No  children  were 
born  to  the  Gerano  couple,  and  the  two  girls  were  brought 
up  together  as  though  they  were  sisters.  The  Prince 
and  Princess  were  deeply  attached  to  each  other  and  to 
them  both,  so  that  for  many  years  Casa  Gerano  was 
justly  looked  upon  as  a  model  household. 

Mrs.  Carlyon  was  very  poor  when  she  came  to  Rome. 
Her  husband  had  been  a  careless,  good-humoured,  and 
rather  reckless  younger  son,  and  when  he  broke  his  neck 
in  coming  down  the  Gross  Glockner  he  left  his  widow 
about  as  much  as  men  of  his  stamp  generally  leave  to 
their  families ;  to  wit,  a  fearful  and  wonderful  confusion 
of  unpaid  debts  and  a  considerable  number  of  promises 
to  pay  money,  signed  by  persons  whose  promises  were  not 
of  much  consequence,  even  when  clearly  set  down  on 

445185  1 


2'*  V  PCETBO    GHISLERI. 


'It  seems  to.  be  a  peculiarity  of  poor  and  good- 
natured  men  that  they  will  lend  whatever  money  they 
have  to  impecunious  friends  in  distress  rather  than  use 
it  for  the  paying  of  the  just  debts  they  owe  their  tailors. 

G-erano  was  rich.  It  does  not  by  any  means  follow 
that  Mrs.  Carlyon  married  him  for  his  money,  though 
she  could  not  have  married  him  without  it.  She  fell  in 
love  with  him.  He,  on  his  part,  having  made  a  marriage 
of  interest  when  he  took  his  first  wife,  and  having  led 
by  no  means  a  very  peaceful  existence  with  the  deceased 
Princess,  considered  that  he  had  earned  the  right  to 
please  himself,  and  accordingly  did  so.  Moreover,  Mrs. 
Carlyon  was  a  Catholic,  which  singularly  facilitated  mat 
ters  in  the  eyes  of  Gerano's  numerous  relations.  Jack 
Carlyon  had  been  of  the  Church  of  England ;  and  though 
anything  but  a  practising  believer,  if  he  believed  in  any 
thing  at  all,  he  had  nevertheless  absolutely  insisted  that 
his  daughter  should  be  brought  up  in  his  own  creed.  On 
this  one  point  he  had  displayed  all  the  tenacity  he  pos 
sessed,  and  the  supply  then  seemed  to  be  exhausted  so 
far  as  other  matters  were  concerned.  His  wife  was  a 
very  conscientious  woman,  altogether  superior  to  him  in 
character,  and  she  continued  to  respect  his  wishes,  even 
after  his  death.  Laura,  she  said,  should  choose  for  her 
self  when  she  was  old  enough.  In  the  meantime  she 
should  go  to  the  English  Church.  The  consequence  was 
that  the  little  girl  had  an  English  nurse  and  afterwards 
an  English  governess,  while  Adele  was  taken  care  of  and 
taught  by  Catholics.  Under  these  circumstances,  and  as 
the  step-sisters  were  not  related  by  blood  or  even  by  race, 
it  is  not  strange  that  they  should  have  grown  up  to  be  as 
different  as  possible,  while  living  under  the  same  roof 
and  calling  the  same  persons  father  and  mother. 

The  question  of  religion  alone  could  certainly  not  have 
brought  about  the  events  here  to  be  chronicled,  and  it 
may  be  as  well  to  say  at  once  that  this  history  is  not  in 
the  least  concerned  with  matters  of  faith,  creed,  or  dogma, 
which  are  better  left  to  those  good  men  whose  business 


PIETRO    GHISLEBI.  3 

it  is  to  understand  them.  The  main  and  striking  points 
of  contrast  were  these.  Adele  was  barely  more  than 
pretty.  Laura  was  all  but  beautiful.  Adele  was  a  great 
heiress,  and  Laura  had  nothing  or  next  to  nothing  to 
expect  at  her  mother's  death.  Adele  was  quick-witted, 
lively,  given  to  exaggeration  in  her  talk,  and  not  very 
scrupulous  as  to  questions  of  fact.  Laura  was  slow  to 
decide,  but  tenacious  of  her  decisions,  and,  on  the  whole, 
very  truthful. 

In  appearance,  so  far  as  generalities  were  concerned, 
the  contrast  between  the  two  girls  was  less  marked. 
Both  were  of  the  dark  type,  but  Laura's  complexion  was 
paler  than  Adele's  and  her  hair  was  blacker,  as  well  as 
thicker  and  more  glossy.  Laura's  eyes  were  large,  very 
deep  set,  and  dark.  There  was  something  strange  in  their 
look,  something  quite  unusual,  and  which  might  almost 
be  called  holy,  if  that  were  not  too  strong  a  word  to  use 
in  connexion  with  a  woman  of  the  world.  Spicca,  the 
melancholy  duellist,  who  was  still  alive  at  that  time,  used 
to  say  that  no  one  could  possibly  be  as  good  as  Laura 
Carlyon  looked;  a  remark  which  showed  that  he  was 
acquainted  with  the  sayings  of  a  great  English  wit,  and 
was  not  above  making  use  of  them.  Probably  some  part 
of  the  effect  produced  by  Laura's  eyes  was  due  to  the 
evenly  perfect  whiteness  of  her  skin  and  the  straight  black 
brows  which  divided  them  from  the  broad  low  forehead. 
For  her  hair  grew  low,  and  she  wore  it  in  a  simple  fashion 
without  that  abundance  of  little  curls  which  even  then 
were  considered  almost  essential  to  woman's  beauty.  Her 
pallor,  too,  was  quite  natural,  for  she  had  a  good  consti 
tution  and  had  rarely  even  had  a  headache.  In  figure 
she  was  well  proportioned,  of  average  height  and  rather 
strongly  made,  with  large,  firm,  well-shaped  hands.  On 
the  whole,  a  graceful  girl,  but  not  in  that  way  remarkable 
among  others  of  her  own  age.  In  her  face,  and  altogether 
in  her  presence,  the  chief  attraction  lay  in  the  look  of 
her  eyes,  which  made  one  forget  to  notice  the  well-chis 
elled  nose.  —  a  little  short  perhaps,  —  the  really  beautiful 


PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

mouth,  and  the  perfect  teeth.  The  chin,  too,  was  broad 
and  firm  —  too  firm,  some  might  have  said,  for  one  so 
young.  Considering  all  these  facts  together,  most  people 
agreed  that  Laura  was  not  far  from  being  a  great  beauty. 

Adele  was  somewhat  shorter  than  her  step-sister,  and 
more  inclined  to  be  stout.  Her  black  eyes  were  set  nearer 
together,  and  her  eyebrows  almost  met,  while  her  lustre 
less  hair  curled  naturally  in  a  profusion  of  tiny  ringlets 
upon  her  forehead.  The  small  fine  nose  reminded  one  of 
a  ferret,  and  the  white  teeth  looked  sharp  and  pointed 
when  the  somewhat  thin  lips  parted  and  showed  them; 
but  she  was  undoubtedly  pretty,  and  something  more 
than  pretty.  Her  face  had  colour  and  animation,  she 
carried  her  small  head  well,  and  her  gestures  were  grace 
ful  and  easy.  She  was  fluent,  too,  in  conversation  and 
ready  at  all  times  with  a  quick  answer.  Any  one  could 
see,  in  spite  of  her  plump  figure,  that  she  was  of  a 
very  nervous  constitution,  restless,  unsettled,  and  easily 
moved,  capable  of  considerable  determination  when  really 
affected.  She  never  understood  Laura,  nor  did  Laura 
really  understand  her. 

In  the  natural  course  of  events,  social  and  domestic,  it 
became  necessary  to  choose  a  husband  for  Adele  so  soon 
as  she  made  her  first  appearance  in  society.  At  that 
time  Laura  was  not  yet  seventeen.  Gerano  had  already 
looked  about  him  and  had  made  up  his  mind.  He  was  a 
little  dark-eyed  man,  grey,  thin  and  nervous,  but  gifted 
with  an  unusually  agreeable  manner,  a  pleasant  tone  of 
voice,  a  frank  glance,  and  an  extremely  upright  character 
—  a  man  much  liked  in  the  world  and  a  good  deal 
respected. 

He  had  determined  that  if  possible  his  daughter  should 
marry  Don  Francesco  Savelli,  a  worthy  young  person, 
his  father's  eldest  son,  heir  to  a  good  estate  and  a  still 
better  name,  and  altogether  a  most  desirable  husband 
from  all  points  of  view.  Gerano  met  with  no  serious 
difficulty  in  bringing  about  what  he  wished,  and  in  due 
time  Don  Francesco  was  affianced  to  Donna  Adele,  and 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  5 

was  privileged  to  visit  at  the  Palazzo  Braccio  almost  as 
often  as  lie  pleased.  He  thus  saw  Laura  Carlyon  often, 
and  he  very  naturally  fell  in  love  with  her.  He  had  no 
particular  inclination  to  marry  Donna  Adele,  but  obeyed 
his  father  blindly,  as  a  matter  of  course,  just  as  Adele 
obeyed  G-erano.  That  was  a  part  of  the  old  Roman  system. 
Laura,  however,  did  not  fall  in  love  with  Francesco. 
She  was  perhaps  too  young  yet,  or  it  is  quite  possible 
that  Francesco  was  too  dull  and  uninteresting  a  person 
age  in  her  eyes.  But  Adele  saw  these  things,  and  was 
very  angry  when  she  was  quite  sure  that  her  future  hus 
band  would  have  greatly  preferred  to  marry  her  step-sis 
ter.  She  may  be  pardoned  for  having  been  jealous,  for 
the  situation  was  hardly  bearable. 

Francesco  did  not,  indeed,  make  love  to  Laura.  Even 
had  he  been  rash  enough  for  that,  he  was  in  reality  too 
much  a  gentleman  at  heart  to  have  done  such  a  thing. 
He  knew  very  well  that  he  was  to  marry  Adele,  whether 
he  cared  for  her  or  not,  and  he  behaved  with  great  pro 
priety  and  with  not  a  little  philosophy.  The  virtue  of 
resignation  had  been  carefully  developed  in  him  from  his 
childhood,  and  Francesco's  parents  now  reaped  their 
reward :  he  would  not  have  thought  of  opposing  them 
by  word  or  deed. 

But  he  could  not  hide  what  he  felt.  Like  many  good 
young  men,  he  was  sensitive,  and  if  he  alternately  blushed 
and  turned  pale  when  Laura  spoke  to  him,  it  was  not  his 
fault.  His  father  and  mother  could  assuredly  not  ex 
pect  him  to  control  the  circulation  of  his  blood  when  it 
chose  to  rise  above  the  line  of  his  collar,  or  seemed  to 
sink  to  the  level  of  his  boots.  Adele  was,  however,  at 
first  very  angry,  and  then  very  jealous,  and  at  last  hated 
her  step-sister  with  all  her  heart,  as  young  women  can 
hate  under  circumstances  of  great  provocation. 

Meanwhile,  Laura  remained  calmly  unconscious  of  all 
that  was  happening.  Francesco  Savelli's  outward  and 
worldly  advantages  did  not  appeal  to  her  in  the  least. 
The  fact  that  he  was  fair  had  no  interest  for  her  any 


6  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

more  than  the  fact  that  the  old  Prince  of  Gerano  was 
dark.  She  talked  to  the  young  man  a  little,  when  the 
conversation  was  general,  just  as  she  talked  to  every  one 
else,  when  she  had  anything  to  say,  because  she  was  not 
naturally  shy.  But  she  never  attempted  to  manufacture 
remarks  when  nothing  came  to  her  lips,  because  she  was 
not  yet  called  upon  to  do  so.  Nor  was  her  silence  by 
any  means  golden,  so  far  as  Savelli  was  concerned. 
When  she  was  not  speaking  to  him,  she  took  no  notice  of 
him.  His  hair  might  be  as  yellow  as  mustard  and  his 
eyes  as  blue  as  periwinkles,  as  his  admirers  said;  she  did 
not  care.  If  possible,  Adele  hated  her  even  more  for 
caring  so  little. 

In  due  time  Francesco  Savelli  married  Adele  Braccio 
and  took  her  to  live  under  his  father's  roof.  After  the 
great  event  peace  descended  once  more  upon  the  house 
hold  for  a  time,  and  Laura  Carlyon  saw  much  less  of  her 
adorer.  Not,  indeed,  that  there  had  been  any  open  con 
flict  between  the  step-sisters,  nor  even  a  declaration  of 
war.  Laura  had  attributed  Adele's  coldness  to  her 
excitement  about  the  marriage,  natural  enough  under  the 
circumstances,  and  had  not  been  hurt  by  it,  while  Adele 
had  carefully  kept  her  jealousy  to  herself ;  but  when  the 
two  met  afterwards,  Laura  felt  that  she  was  immeasurably 
far  removed  from  anything  like  intimacy  or  real  friend 
ship  with  the  bride,  and  she  was  surprised  that  Francesco 
should  pay  so  much  attention  to  herself. 

The  young  couple  came  to  the  Palazzo  Braccio  at  regu 
lar  intervals,  and  at  all  these  family  gatherings  Savelli 
spent  his  time  in  making  conversation  for  Laura.  He 
was  a  very  worthy  young  man,  as  has  been  said,  and  his 
talents  were  not  of  the  highest  order,  but  he  did  his  best, 
and  succeeded  at  least  in  making  Laura  think  him  pas 
sably  agreeable.  She  was  willing  to  hear  him  talk,  and 
Adele  noted  the  fact.  When  she  drove  home  from  her 
father's  house  with  her  husband,  he  was  generally  ab 
stracted  and  gave  random  answers  to  her  questions  or 
observations.  At  the  end  of  a  year  it  was  clear  that  he 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  I 

still  loved  Laura  in  a  hopeless,  helpless,  sentimental 
fashion  of  his  own,  and  Adele  hated  her  more  than  ever. 
A  second  year  and  a  third  went  by,  and  Laura  had  been 
sometime  in  society;  still  the  situation  remained  un 
changed.  The  world  said  that  the  young  Savelli  were 
a  very  happy  couple,  but  it  always  looked  at  Laura  Carl- 
yon  with  an  odd  expression,  as  though  it  knew  something- 
strange  about  her ;  something  not  quite  right,  which  it 
was  willing  to  tolerate  for  the  sake  of  the  amusement  to 
be  got  by  watching  her.  The  world  is  the  generic  appel 
lation  of  all  those  who  go  down  to  the  sea  of  society  in 
long  gowns  or  white  ties,  and  live  and  move  and  have 
their  being  therein.  Other  people  do  not  count,  even 
when  they  are  quite  bad,  although  they  may  have  very 
big  names  and  a  great  deal  of  money.  The  world,  there 
fore,  wagged  its  head  and  said  that  Laura  Caiiyon  was 
in  love  with  her  brother-in-law,  or,  to  be  quite  accurate, 
with  her  step-brother-in-law,  because  she  was  dark  and 
his  hair  was  so  exceedingly  yellow.  The  world  also  went 
on  to  say  that  Donna  Adele  behaved  very  kindly  about 
it,  and  that  it  was  so  good  of  Francesco  Savelli  to  talk  to 
Laura  just  as  if  there  were  nothing  wrong  ;  for,  it  added, 
if  he  were  to  avoid  her,  there  would  certainly  be  gossip 
before  long.  No  one  who  does  not  live  in  society  need 
attempt  to  follow  this  sequence  of  ideas.  As  usual, 
too,  nobody  took  the  least  trouble  to  find  out  the  origin 
of  the  story,  but  everybody  was  quite  sure  of  having 
heard  it  at  first  hand  from  the  one  person  who  knew. 

The  Princess  of  Gerano  took  her  daughter  everywhere. 
She  had  conscientiously  done  her  duty  towards  Adele,  and 
was  sincerely  fond  of  her  besides ;  but  she  loved  Laura 
almost  as  much  as  the  good  mother  in  the  story-book 
loves  her  only  child  when  the  latter  has  done  something 
particularly  disgraceful.  She  was  at  first  annoyed 
and  then  made  seriously  anxious  by  the  young  girl's 
total  failure  in  society,  from  the  social  point  of  view. 
Laura  was  beautiful,  good,  and  accomplished.  Ugly, 
spiteful,  and  stupid  girls  succeeded  better  than  she, 


8  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

though  some  of  them  had  no  better  prospect  of  a  dowry. 
The  good  lady  sought  in  vain  the  cause  of  the  trouble, 
but  failed  to  find  it  out.  Had  she  been  born  in  Rome, 
she  would  doubtless  have  had  many  kind  friends  to  help 
her  in  the  solution  of  the  difficulty.  But  though  she 
bore  a  Eoman  name,  and  had  adopted  Roman  customs 
and  had  led  a  Roman  life  for  nearly  twenty  years,  she 
was  tacitly  looked  upon  as  a  foreigner,  and  her  daughter 
was  treated  in  the  same  way,  though  she,  at  least,  spoke 
the  language  as  her  own.  Moreover,  the  girl  was  not  a 
Catholic,  and  that  was  an  additional  disadvantage  where 
matrimony  was  concerned.  It  became  evident  to  the 
Princess  that  she  was  not  likely  to  find  a  husband  for 
her  daughter  —  certainly  not  such  a  husband  as  she  had 
dreamed  that  Laura  might  love,  and  who  was  to  love  her 
and  make  her  happy. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  Gerano  himself  would 
have  been  indifferent  if  he  had  known  the  real  facts  of 
the  case.  But  he  did  not.  Like  many  elderly  Romans, 
he  hardly  ever  went  into  society  and  took  very  little 
interest  in  its  doings.  He  was  very  much  concerned 
with  the  administration  of  his  fortune,  and  for  his  own 
daughter's  welfare  in  her  new  surroundings.  He  spent 
a  good  deal  of  time  at  his  club,  and  was  often  in  the 
country,  even  in  the  height  of  the  season.  He  supposed 
that  no  one  asked  for  Laura's  hand  because  she  was 
dowerless,  and  he  was  sincerely  sorry  for  it ;  but  it  did 
not  enter  his  mind  to  provide  her  with  a  suitable  portion 
out  of  his  abundance.  He  was  too  conscientious  for  that. 
What  he  had  inherited  from  his  father  must  go  down 
intact  to  his  child  and  to  her  children,  —  a  son  had 
already  been  born  to  the  young  Savelli,  —  and  to  divide 
the  property,  or  to  take  from  it  anything  like  a  fortune 
for  Laura,  would  be  little  short  of  actual  robbery  in  the 
eyes  of  a  Braccio. 

Laura  herself  was  perhaps  less  disturbed  by  the  cold 
ness  she  encountered  than  her  mother  was  for  her 
sake.  She  had  a  certain  contempt  for  young  girls  of  her 


PIETKO    GHISLERI.  9 

age  and  younger,  whose  sole  idea  was  to  be  married  as 
soon  as  possible  and  with  the  greatest  advantage  to 
themselves.  She  was  not  very  vain  and  did  not  expect 
great  admiration  on  the  one  hand,  nor  any  particular 
dislike  on  the  other.  Her  character,  too,  was  one  that 
must  develop  slowly,  if  it  were  ever  to  attain  its  mature 
growth.  She  doubtless  had  moments  of  annoyance  and 
even  of  depression  ;  for  few  young  girls,  and  certainly  no 
women,  are  wholly  unconscious  of  neglect  in  society. 
But  although  she  was  naturally  inclined  to  melancholy, 
as  her  eyes  clearly  showed,  she  was  not  by  nature  morbid, 
and  assuredly  not  more  than  usually  imaginative. 

The  result  of  all  this  was,  that  she  bore  herself  with 
considerable  dignity  in  the  world,  was  generally  believed 
to  be  older  than  she  was,  and  was  to  be  seen  more  often 
dancing  or  talking  with  the  foreigners  at  parties  than 
with  the  Romans. 

"  Who  is  that,  Ghisleri  ?  "  asked  Lord  Herbert  Arden 
of  his  old  friend,  one  evening  early  in  the  season,  as  he 
caught  sight  of  Laura  for  the  first  time. 

"  An  English  Roman  girl,"  answered  the  Italian.  "  The 
daughter  of  the  Princess  of  Gerano  by  her  first  marriage 
—  Miss  Carlyon." 

Lord  Herbert  had  not  been  in  Rome  for  three  or  four 
years,  and  was,  moreover,  by  no  means  acquainted  with 
all  Roman  society. 

"Will  you  introduce  me?"  he  asked,  looking  up  at 
Ghisleri. 

Ghisleri  led  him  across  the  room,  introduced  him  and 
left  the  two  together,  he  being  at  that  time  very  particu 
larly  engaged  in  another  quarter. 

The  contrast  between  the  two  men  was  very  strong. 
Lord  Herbert  Arden  was  almost,  if  not  quite,  a  cripple, 
the  victim  in  his  infancy  of  a  serving-woman's  care 
lessness.  The  nurse  had  let  him  fall,  had  concealed 
the  accident  as  long  as  she  could,  and  the  boy  had  grown 
up  misshapen  and  feeble.  In  despite  of  this,  however, 
he  was  eminently  a  man  at  whom  every  one  looked  twice. 


10 


PIETKO    GHISLERT. 


No  one  who  had  seen  him  could  ever  forget  the  extreme 
nobility  and  delicacy  of  his  pale  face.  Each  feature 
completed  and  gave  dignity  to  the  next  —  the  broad 
highly  modelled  forehead,  the  prominent  brow,  the 
hollows  at  the  temples,  the  clear,  steady  brown  eyes 
the  aquiline  nose  and  sensitive  nostrils,  the  calm,  straight 
mouth,  and  the  firm,  clearly  cut  chin  — all  were  in  har 
mony.  And  yet  in  all  the  crowd  that  thronged  the 
great  drawing-rooms  there  was  hardly  a  man  with  whom 
the  young  Englishman  would  not  have  exchanged  face 
and  figure,  if  only  he  might  stand  at  the  height  of  other 
men,  straight  and  square,  and  be  free  forever  from  the 
halting  gait  which  made  life  in  the  world  so  hard  for 
him.  He  was  very  human,  and  made  no  great  pretence 
of  resignation,  nor  indeed  of  any  other  virtue. 

Pietro  Ghisleri  was  a  very  different  personage  except, 
perhaps,  in  point  of  humanity.     He  had  seen  and  enjoyed 
much,  if  he  had  suffered  much  also,  and  his  face  bore  the 
traces  of  past  pleasure  and  of  past  pain,  though  he  was 
not   more  than  two-and-thirty  years  of  age.     It  was  a 
strong  face,  too,  and  not  without  signs  of  superior  in 
telligence  and  resolution.     The  keen  blue  eyes  had  that 
trick  of  fixing  themselves  in  conversation,  which  belongs 
to  combative  temperaments.     At  other  times  they  were 
sad  in  expression,  and  often  wore  a  weary  look.     Ghis- 
leri's  complexion  might  almost  have  been  called  weather- 
beaten;    for  frequent    and    long   exposure   to   sun   and 
weather  had  permanently  changed  its  original  colouring, 
which  had  been  decidedly  fair.     To   adopt  the   simple 
style  of  his  passport,  he  might  be  described  as  six  feet 
high,  eyes  blue,  hair  and  moustache  brown,  nose  large, 
mouth  normal,  chin  prominent,  face  somewhat  bony,  — 
particular  sign,  a  scar  on  the  left  temple.     Like  his  old 
friend  Lord  Herbert,  he  was  one  of  the  dozen  men  who 
always  attract  attention  in  a  crowded  room.     But  of  all 
those  who  looked  at  him,  having  known  him  long,  very 
few  understood  his  character  in  the  least,  and  all  would 
have   been    very  much   surprised    if    they   could    have 


PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

guessed  his  thoughts,  especially  on  that  particular  even 
ing  when  he  introduced  Arden  to  Miss  Carlyon.  As  for 
the  rest,  he  was  alone  in  the  world,  his  own  master,  the 
last  of  a  Tuscan  family  that  had  refused  to  bear  a  title 
when  titles  meant  something  and  had  not  seen  any  reason 
for  changing  its  mind  in  the  course  of  three  or  four 
centuries.  He  had  a  small  fortune,  sufficient  for  his 
wants,  and  a  castle  somewhere,  considerably  the  worse 
for  war  and  wear. 

"  I  cannot  dance,  you  see,"  said  Arden,  seating  himself 
beside  Laura,  "and  I  am  afraid  that  I  am  not  very 
brilliant  in  conversation.  Are  you  a  very  good-natured 
person  ?  " 

Laura  turned  her  sad  eyes  upon  her  new  acquaintance, 
and  immediately  felt  a  thrill  of  sympathy  for  him,  and 
of  interest  in  his  remarkable  face. 

"  No  one  ever  told  me,"  she  answered.  "  Do  you  think 
you  could  find  out  ?  I  should  like  to  know." 

"  What  form  of  sin  do  you  most  affect  ? "  asked 
Arden,  with  a  smile.  "  Do  you  more  often  do  the  things 
you  ought  not  to  do,  or  do  you  leave  undone  the  things 
which  you  ought  to  do  ?  " 

"Oh,    I   leave  the   good  things  undone,  of    course!" 

answered  Laura.     "  I  suppose  everybody  does,  as  a  rule." 

"  You  are   decidedly  good-natured,  particularly  so  in 

making  that  last  remark.     I  am  less  afraid  of  you  than 

I  was  when  I  sat  down." 

The  young  girl  looked  at  him  again.  His  conversa 
tion  was  so  far  not  like  that  of  the  Englishmen  she  had 
known  hitherto. 

"  Were  you  afraid  of  me  ?  "  she  asked,  beginning  to 
smile. 

"  A  little,  I  confess." 

"  Why  ?  And  if  you  were,  why  did  you  make  Signer 
Ghisleri  introduce  you  to  me  ?  " 

"  Because  nobody  likes  to  own  to  being  afraid.  Be 
sides,  Ghisleri  is  a  very  old  friend  of  mine,  and  I  can 
trust  him  not  to  lead  me  into  danger." 


12 


PIETRO    GHISLERI. 


"  Have  you  known  him  long  ?  "  asked  Laura.  "  I 
have  often  wondered  what  he  is  really  like.  I  mean  his 
character,  you  know,  and  what  he  thinks  about." 

"  He  thinks  a  great  deal.  He  is  one  of  the  most  com 
plicated  characters  I  ever  knew,  and  I  am  not  at  all  sure 
that  I  understand  him  yet,  though  we  have  known  each 
other  ten  years.  -  He  is  a  good  friend  and  a  rather  indif 
ferent  enemy,  I  should  say.  His  chief  apparent  pecu 
liarity  is  that  he  hates  gossip.  You  will  not  find  it  easy 
to  get  from  him  a  disagreeable  remark  about  any  one. 
Yet  he  is  not  good-natured." 

"Perhaps  he  is  afraid  to  say  what  he  thinks,"  sug 
gested  the  young  girl. 

"  I  doubt  that,"  answered  Arden,  with  a  smile.  "  He 
has  not  a  particularly  angelic  reputation,  I  believe,  but  I 
never  heard  any  one  say  that  he  was  timid." 

"As  you  pretend  to  be,"  added  Laura.  "Do  you 
know?  You  have  not  answered  my  question.  Why 
were  you  afraid  of  me,  if  you  really  were  ?  " 

Lord  Herbert  answered  one  question  by  another,  and 
the  conversation  continued  pleasantly  enough.  It  was  a 
relief  to  him  to  find  a  young  and  beautiful  girl  of  his 
own  nationality  in  surroundings  with  which  neither  he 
nor  she  were  really  in  sympathy.  In  the  course  of  half 
an  hour  they  both  felt  as  though  they  had  known  one 
another  a  long  time.  The  admiration  Arden  had  felt  for 
Laura  at  first  sight  had  considerably  increased,  and  she 
on  her  side  had  half  forgotten  that  he  was  a  cripple. 
Indeed,  when  he  was  seated,  his  deformities  were  far  less 
noticeable  than  when  he  stood  or  painfully  moved  about 
from  place  to  place. 

The  two  talked  of  a  variety  of  subjects,  but,  with  the 
exception  of  the  few  words  spoken  about  Ghisleri,  there 
was  no  more  reference  to  personalities  for  a  long  time. 

"  I  am  keeping  you  away  from  the  dancing,"  Arden 
said  at  last,  as  he  realised  that  the  room  was  almost 
empty  and  that  he  had  been  absorbing  the  beautiful  Miss 
Carlyon's  attention  longer  than  might  be  pleasant  to  her. 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  13 

"  Not  at  all,"  answered  Laura.  "  I  do  not  dance 
much." 

"Why  not?  Do  you  not  like  dancing?"  He  asked 
the  question  in  a  tone  of  surprise. 

"On  the  contrary.  But  I  am  not  taken  out  very 
often  —  perhaps  because  they  think  me  a  foreigner.  It 
is  natural  enough." 

"  Very  unnatural,  it  seems  to  me.  Besides,  I  believe 
you  are  exaggerating,  so  as  not  to  make  me  feel  uncom 
fortable.  It  is  of  no  use,  you  know ;  I  am  not  at  all 
sensitive.  Shall  we  go  into  the  ball-room  ?  " 

"No  ;  I  would  rather  not,  just  yet." 

"  Shall  I  go  and  get  Ghisleri  to  take  you  back  ?  " 
inquired  Arden,  with  a  little  smile. 

«  Why  ?  " 

"  Because  I  might  make  you  look  ridiculous,"  answered 
the  cripple,  quietly. 

He  watched  her,  and  saw  a  quick,  pained  look  pass 
over  her  face.  It  was  at  that  particular  moment  that  he 
began  to  love  her,  as  he  afterwards  remembered.  She 
turned  her  eyes  upon  him  as  she  answered  after  a 
moment's  hesitation. 

"  Lord  Herbert,  will  you  please  never  say  anything 
like  that  to  me  again  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,  if  it  offends  you." 

"  It  does  not  offend  me.     I  do  not  mean  that." 

"  What,  then  ?  Please  tell  me.  I  am  not  at  all  sensi 
tive." 

"  It  pains  me.  I  do  not  like  to  fancy  that  any  one  can 
think  such  things  of  me,  much  less  .  .  ."  she  stopped 
short  and  looked  down,  slowly  opening  and  shutting  her 
fan. 

"  Much  less  ?  " 

Laura  hesitated  for  some  seconds,  as  though  choosing 
her  words  with  more  than  ordinary  care. 

"  Much  less  one  whom  it  might  pain  to  think  them," 
she  said  at  last. 

The  smile  that  had  been  on  Arden's  face  faded  away 


14  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

in  the  silence  that  followed,  and  his  lips  moved  a  little 
as  though  he  felt  some  kind  of  emotion,  while  his  large 
thin  hands  closed  tightly  upon  his  withered  knee. 

"  Have  I  said  too  much  ?  "  she  asked,  suddenly  break 
ing  the  long  pause. 

"  Or  not  quite  enough,  perhaps,"  he  answered  in  a  low 
voice. 

Again  they  were  both  silent,  and  they  both  wondered 
inwardly  that  in  less  than  an  hour's  acquaintance  they 
should  have  reached  something  like  a  crisis.  At  last 
Laura  rose  slowly  and  deliberately,  intending  to  give  her 
companion  time  to  get  to  his  feet. 

"  Will  you  give  me  your  arm  ?  "  she  said  when  he  stood 
beside  her.  "  I  want  to  introduce  you  to  my  mother." 

Arden  bent  his  head  and  held  up  his  right  arm  for  her 
hand.  He  was  considerably  shorter  than  she.  Then 
they  walked  away  together,  she  erect  and  easy  in  her 
girlish  gait,  he  weak-kneed  and  awkward,  seeming  to 
un joint  half  his  body  at  every  painful  step,  helping  him 
self  along  at  her  side  with  the  stick  he  held  in  his  free 
hand- — a  strangely  assorted  couple,  the  world  said,  as 
they  went  by. 

"My  mother's  name  is  Gerano,  Princess  of  Gerano," 
said  Laura,  by  way  of  explanation,  as  they  came  within 
sight  of  her. 

"And  is  your  father  —  I  mean,  is  Prince  Gerano  — 
living?"  asked  Arden.  He  had  almost  forgotten  her 
name  and  her  nationality  in  the  interest  he  felt  in  herself. 

"  Yes ;  but  he  rarely  goes  into  society.  I  am  very  fond 
of  him,"  she  added,  scarcely  knowing  why.  "Mother," 
she  said,  as  they  came  up  to  the  Princess,  "Lord  Herbert 
Arden." 

The  Princess  smiled  and  held  out  her  hand.  At  that 
moment  Pietro  Ghisleri  came  up.  He  had  not  been  seen 
since  he  had  left  Laura  and  Arden  together.  By  a  coin 
cidence,  doubtless,  the  Contessa  dell'  Armi  had  disap 
peared  at  about  the  same  time :  she  had  probably  gone 
home,  as  she  was  not  seen  again  in  the  ball-room  that 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  15 

evening.  But  the  world  in  its  omniscience  knew  that 
there  was  a  certain  boudoir  beyond  the  supper-room,  where 
couples  who  did  not  care  to  dance  were  left  in  compara 
tive  peace  for  a  long  time.  The  world  could  have  told 
with  precision  the  position  of  the  small  sofa  on  which 
G-hisleri  and  the  lovely  Contessa  invariably  spent  an  hour 
when  they  met  in  that  particular  house. 

"  Will  you  give  me  a  turn.  Miss  Carlyon  ?  "  asked  Ghis- 
leri,  as  Arden  began  to  talk  with  the  Princess. 

"Yes."  Laura  was  really  fond  of  a  certain  amount  of 
dancing  when  a  good  partner  presented  himself. 

"What  do  you  think  of  my  friend?"  inquired  Pietro, 
as  they  moved  away  together. 

"I  like  him  very  much.     He  interests  me." 

"Then  you  ought  to  be  grateful  to  me  for  bringing  him 
to  you." 

"Do  you  expect  gratitude  in  a  ball-room?"  Laura 
laughed  a  little,  more  in  pleasant  anticipation  of  the 
waltz  than  at  what  she  said. 

"A  little  more  than  in  the  average  asylum  for  the  aged 
and  infirm,  which  most  people  call  home,"  returned  G-his- 
leri,  carelessly. 

"  You  have  no  home.  How  can  you  talk  about  it  in 
that  way?" 

"For  the  sake  of  talking;  shall  we  dance  instead?  " 

A  moment  later  they  were  in  the  thick  of  the  crowd. 

"There  are  too  many  people;  please  take  me  back," 
said  Laura,  after  one  turn. 

"Will  you  come  and  talk  in  the  conservatory?"  asked 
Ghisleri  as  they  reached  the  door. 

"  No ;  I  would  rather  not." 

"You  were  talking  a  long  time  with  Arden.  I  saw 
you  come  out  of  the  drawing-room  together.  Why  will 
you  not  sit  five  minutes  with  me  ?  " 

"Lord  Herbert  is  different,"  said  Laura,  quietly.  "He 
is  an  Englishman,  and  I  am  English." 

"  Oh !  is  that  the  reason  ?  " 

He  led  her  back  and  left  her  with  her  mother.  Arden 
was  still  there, 


16  PIETllO  GHISLEKI. 


CHAPTER  II. 

IN  spite  of  his  own  declarations  to  the  contrary,  Lord 
Herbert  Arden  was  a  very  sensitive  man.  When  he 
said  he  was  not,  he  was  perhaps  trying  to  deceive  him 
self,  but  the  attempt  was  at  best  only  partially  success 
ful.  Few  men  in  his  circumstances  can  escape  the  daily 
sting  that  lies  in  comparing  their  unfortunate  outward 
personality  with  the  average  symmetry  of  the  human 
race.  Women  seem  to  feel  deformity  less  than  men,  or  per 
haps  one  only  thinks  so  because  they  bear  it  more  bravely ; 
it  is  hard  to  say.  If  Darwin  is  right,  men  are  far  more 
vain  of  their  appearance  than  women;  and  there  are 
many  who  believe  that  a  woman's  passive  courage  is 
greater  than  a  man's.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  particular 
sufferer  who  made  Laura  Carlyon's  acquaintance  at  the 
ball  was  in  reality  as  sensitive  a  man  in  almost  all  respects 
as  could  be  met  with  anywhere  in  ordinary  life.  When 
he  discovered  that  he  was  seriously  in  love  with  Laura 
Carlyon,  his  existence  changed  suddenly,  and  for  the 
worse,  so  far  as  his  comfort  was  concerned. 

He  reviewed  the  situation  as  calmly  as  he  could,  when 
a  fortnight  or  more  had  passed  and  he  had  seen  her  a 
dozen  times  at  her  step-father's  house  and  in  the  world. 
One  main  fact  was  now  quite  clear  to  him.  She  was  not 
what  is  called  popular  in  society ;  she  had  not  even  any 
intimate  friends.  As  for  his  own  chances,  he  did  not  like 
to  think  of  them.  Though  only  the  younger  brother  of  a 
peer  of  high  rank,  he  was  entitled  to  expect  a  large  for 
tune  from  an  uncle  on  his  mother's  side,  who  had  never 
made  any  secret  of  his  intentions  in  regard  to  his  prop 
erty,  and  who,  being  over  eighty  years  of  age,  could  not 
be  expected  to  live  much  longer  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
nature.  At  present  his  modest  portion  was  quite  suffi 
cient  for  himself,  but  he  doubted  whether  it  would  suf 
fice  for  his  needs  if  he  married.  That,  however,  was  of 


PIETKO  GHISLERI.  17 

minor  importance.  The  great  fortune  was  safe  and  he 
was  an  exceedingly  good  match  from  a  financial  point  of 
view.  Miss  Carlyon  was  poor,  as  he  knew  from  Ghisleri, 
and  Ghisleri  had  very  probably  told  her  that  Arden  was 
rich,  or  would  be  before  long.  He  refused  to  believe 
that  Laura,  of  her  own  free  will,  might  marry  him  for 
his  money;  but  it  was  intolerable  to  think  that  her 
mother  and  step-father  might  try  to  force  her  into  the 
match  from  considerations  of  interest.  He  was  not  just 
to  the  Princess  of  Gerano,  but  he  knew  her  very  slightly 
as  yet  and  had  no  means  of  forming  a  positive  opinion. 

In  the  meantime  he  had  been  introduced  to  Donna 
Adele  Savelli,  who  had  received  him  with  the  greatest 
warmth,  protesting  her  love  for  the  English  people  and 
everything  English,  and  especially  for  her  step-mother  and 
step-sister.  He  had  also  renewed  his  acquaintance  with 
young  Savelli,  whom  he  had  known  slightly  during  a 
former  visit  to  Rome,  and  who  now,  he  thought,  met  him 
rather  coldly.  He  attributed  Adele's  gushing  manner  to 
a  desire  to  bring  about  a  marriage,  and  he  did  not  attempt 
to  account  for  Don  Francesco's  stiffness;  but  he  liked 
neither  the  one  manifestation  nor  the  other,  for  both 
wounded  him  in  different  degrees. 

Above  all  other  difficulties,  the  one  which  was  most 
natural  to  his  delicately  organised  nature  was  of  a  purely 
disinterested  kind.  He  feared  lest  Laura,  who  evi 
dently  felt  both  pity  and  sympathy  for  him,  should  take 
the  two  together  for  genuine  love  and  sacrifice  herself  in 
a  life  which  would  by  and  by  become  unbearable  to  her. 
He  could  not  but  see  that  at  every  meeting  she  grew 
more  interested  in  his  conversation,  until  when  he  was 
present,  she  scarcely  paid  any  attention  to  any  one  else. 
Such  a  friendship,  if  it  could  have  been  a  real  friendship, 
might  have  made  Arden  happy  so  long  as  it  lasted;  but 
on  his  side,  at  least,  nothing  of  the  kind  was  possible. 
He  knew  that  he  was  hopelessly  in  love,  and  to  pretend 
the  contrary  to  himself  was  real  pain.  He  guessed  with 
wonderful  keenness  the  direction  Laura's  heart  was  tak- 


18  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

ing,  and  he  was  appalled  by  the  vision  of  the  misery 
which  must  spread  over  her  young  life  if,  after  she  had 
married  him,  she  should  be  roused  to  the  great  truth  that 
pity  and  love  are  not  the  same,  though  they  be  so  near 
akin  as  to  be  sometimes  mistaken  one  for  the  other. 

His  weak  health  suffered  and  he  grew  more  and  more 
restless.  It  would  have  been  a  satisfaction  to  speak  out 
a  hundredth  part  of  what  he  felt  to  Ghisleri.  But  he 
was  little  given  to  making  confidences,  and  Ghisleri  was, 
or  seemed  to  be,  the  last  man  to  invite  them.  They 
met  constantly,  however,  and  talked  upon  all  sorts  of 

topics. 

One  day  Ghisleri  came  to  breakfast  with  Arden  in  his 
rooms  at  the  hotel,  looking  more  weather-beaten  than 
usual,  for  he  was  losing  the  tan  from  his  last  expedition 
in  the  south,  and  there  were  deep  black  shadows  under 
his  eyes.  Moreover,  he  was  in  an  abominably  bad  humour 
with  everything  and  with  everybody  except  his  friend. 
Arden  knew  that  he  never  gambled,  and  he  also  knew 
the  man  well  enough  to  guess  at  the  true  cause  of  the 
disturbance.  There  was  something  serious  the  matter. 

They  sat  down  to  breakfast  and  began  to  talk  of 
politics  and  the  weather,  as  old  friends  do  when  they  are 
aware  that  there  is  something  wrong.  Ghisleri  spoke 
English  perfectly,  with  an  almost  imperceptible  accent, 
as  many  Italians  do  nowadays. 

"Come  along  with  me,  Arden,"  he  said  at  last,  as 
though  losing  patience  with  everything  all  at  once.  "  Let 
us  go  to  Paris  or  Timbuctoo.  This  place  is  not  fit  to 

live  in." 

"What  is  the  matter  with  it  ?  "  asked  Arden,  in  a  tone 

of  amusement. 

"The  matter  with  it?  It  is  dull,  to  begin  with. 
Secondly,  it  is  a  perfect  witches'  caldron  of  scandal. 
Thirdly,  we  are  all  as  bad  as  we  can  be.  There  are 
three  points  at  least." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I  do  not  see  them  in  the  same  light. 
Take  some  more  hock." 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  19 

"  Oh,  you  — you  are  amusing  yourself !  Thank  you  — 
I  will  —  half  a  glass.  Of  course  you  like  Rome  —  you 
always  did  —  you  foreigners  always  will.  You  amuse 
yourselves  —  that  is  it." 

"  I  see  you  dancing  every  night  as  though  you  liked 
it,"  observed  Arden. 

« No  doubt!" 

Ghisleri  suddenly  grew  thoughtful  and  a  distant  look 
came  into  his  eyes,  while  the  shadows  seemed  to  deepen 
under  them,  till  they  were  almost  black.  He  had  eaten 
hardly  anything,  and  now,  regardless  of  the  fact  that 
the  meal  was  not  half  over,  he  lit  a  cigarette  and  leaned 
back  in  his  chair  as  though  he  had  finished. 

"  You  are  not  looking  well,  Arden,"  he  said  at  last. 
"You  must  take  care  of  yourself.  Take  my  advice. 
We  will  go  somewhere  together  for  a  couple  of  months." 

"  There  is  nothing  I  should  like  better,  but  not  just  at 
present.  I  will  stay  in  Rome  until  the  weather  is  a 
little  warmer." 

Arden  was  not  in  the  least  conscious  that  his  expres 
sion  changed  as  he  thought  of  the  reason  which  kept 
him  in  the  city  and  which  might  keep  him  long.  But 
Ghisleri,  who  had  been  watching  for  that  particular 
hesitation  of  manner  and  for  that  almost  imperceptible 
darkening  of  the  eyes,  knew  exactly  what  both  meant. 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  he  answered  indifferently.  "  We  can 
go  later.  People  always  invent  absurd  stories  if  one 
goes  away  in  the  middle  of  the  season  without  any 
apparent  object." 

The  remark  was  a  little  less  than  general,  and  Arden 
was  at  once  confirmed  in  his  suspicion  that  something 
unpleasant  had  happened  in  Ghisleri's  life,  most  probably 
in  connection  with  the  Contessa  dell'  Armi.  His  friend 
was  in  such  a  savage  humour  that  he  might  almost 
become  communicative.  Arden  was  a  very  keen-sighted 
man,  and  not  without  tact,  and  he  thought  the  opportu 
nity  a  good  one  for  approaching  a  subject  which  had 
long  been  in  his  mind.  But  he  had  been  in  earnest  when 


20  PIETRO  GHISLERI. 

he  had  told  Laura  that  he  knew  Ghisleri's  character  to 
be  what  he  called  complicated,  and  he  was  aware  that 
Pietro's  intelligence  was  even  more  penetrating  than  his 
own.  He  was  therefore  very  cautious. 

"  You  say  that  Rome  is  such  a  great  place  for  gossip," 
he  began,  in  answer  to  Ghisleri's  last  observation.  "  I 
suppose  you  know  it  by  experience,  but  I  cannot  say  that 
we  strangers  hear  much  of  it." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  admitted  Ghisleri,  rather  absently. 

"  No,  we  do  not  hear  much  scandal.  For  instance,  I  go 
rather  often  to  the  Gerano's.  I  do  not  remember  to  have 
heard  there  a  single  spiteful  story,  except,  perhaps,"  — 
Arden  stopped  Cautiously. 

"  Precisely,"  said  Pietro,  "  the  exceptions  are  rare  in 
that  house.  But  then,  the  Prince  is  generally  away,  and 
both  the  Princess  and  her  daughter  are  English,  and 
especially  nice  people." 

Arden  helped  himself  to  something  that  chanced  to  be 
near  him,  and  glanced  at  his  companion's  rather  impene 
trable  face.  He  knew  that  at  the  present  moment  the 
latter  was  perfectly  sincere  in  what  he  said,  but  he  knew 
also  that  Ghisleri  spoke  of  most  people  in  very  much  the 
same  tone.  It  was  something  which  Arden  could  never 
quite  understand. 

"  Do  you  think,"  he  began  presently,  "  that  the  fact  of 
their  being  English  has  anything  to  do  with  Miss  Carlyon's 
unpopularity  here  ?  " 

"  My  dear  fellow,  how  should  I  know  ?  "  asked  Ghis 
leri,  with  something  almost  like  a  laugh. 

"  You  do  know,  of  course.  I  wish  you  would  tell  me. 
As  an  Englishman,  the  mother  interests  me." 

"  From  the  point  of  view  of  our  international  relations, 
I  see,  collecting  information  for  an  article  in  the  Nine 
teenth  Century,  or  else  your  brother  is  going  to  speak  on 
the  subject  in  the  Lords.  What  do  you  think  about  the 
matter  yourself  ?  If  I  can  put  you  right,  I  will." 

"  What  an  extraordinary  man  you  are  ! "  exclaimed 
Arden.  "  You  always  insist  upon  answering  one  question 
by  another." 


PIETKO   GHISLERI. 


21 


"It  gives-  one  time  to  think/'  retorted  Ghisleri. 
"  These  cigarettes  are  distinctly  bad ;  give  me  one  of 
yours,  please.  I  never  can  understand  why  the  govern 
ment  monopoly  here  should  exist,  and  if  it  does  why 
they  should  not  give  us  Russian  —  " 

"My  dear  Ghisleri/'  said  Arden,  interrupting  him, 
"  we  were  talking  about  the  Princess  Gerano." 

"  Were  we  ?  Oh,  yes,  and  Miss  Carlyon,  too,  I  remem 
ber.  Do  you  like  them  ?  " 

"  Very  much ;  and  I  think  every  one  should.  That  is 
the  reason  why  I  am  surprised  that  Miss  Carlyon  should 
nQt  receive  much  more  attention  than  she  does.  I  fancy 
it"  is  because  she  is  English.  Do  you  think  I  am 
right?" 

"No,"  said  Ghisleri,  slowly,  at  last  answering  the 
direct  question,  "  I  do  not  think  you  are." 

"  Then  what  in  the  world  is  the  reason  ?  The  fact  is 
clear  enough.  She  knows  it  herself." 

"  Probably  some  absurd  bit  of  gossip.  Who  cares  ? 
I  am  sorry  for  her,  though." 

"  How  can  there  be  any  scandal  about  a  young  girl  of 
her  age  ?  "  asked  Arden,  incredulously. 

"  In  this  place  you  can  start  a  story  about  a  baby  a 
year  old,"  answered  Ghisleri.  "  It  will  be  remembered, 
repeated,  and  properly  adorned,  and  will  ultimately  ruin 
the  innocent  woman  when  she  is  grown  up.  Nobody 
seems  to  care  for  chronology  here  —  anachronism  is  so 
much  more  convenient." 

"Why  are  you  so  absurdly  reticent  with  me,  Ghis 
leri  ?  "  asked  Arden,  with  some  impatience.  "  You  talk 
as  though  we  had  not  known  each  other  ten  years." 

"On  the  contrary,"  answered  Pietro,  "if  we  were 
acquaintances  of  yesterday,  I  would  not  talk  at  all. 
That  is  just  the  difference.  As  it  is,  and  because  we  are 
rather  good  friends,  I  tell  you  what  I  believe  to  be  the 
truth.  I  believe  —  well,  I  will  allow  that  I  know,  that 
there  is  a  story  about  Miss  Carlyon,  which  is  commonly 
credited,  and  which  is  a  down-right  lie.  I  will  not  tell 
you  what  it  is.  It  does  not,  strictly  speaking,  affect  her 


22  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

reputation,  but  it  has  made  her  unpopular  —  since  you 
have  used  that  word.  Ask  any  of  the  gossips,  if  you 
care  enough  —  I  am  not  going  to  repeat  such  non 
sense.  It  never  does  any  good  to  repeat  other  peoples' 
lies." 

Arden  was  silent,  and  his  long  white  fingers  played 
uneasily  upon  the  edge  of  the  table.  It  had  been  a  hard 
matter  to  extract  the  information,  but  such  as  it  was  he 
knew  that  it  was  absolutely  reliable.  When  Ghisleri 
spoke  at  all  about  such  things,  he  spoke  the  truth,  and 
when  he  said  that  he  would  positively  say  no  more,  his 
decision  was  always  final.  Arden  had  discovered  that 
in  the  early  days  of  their  acquaintance.  Perhaps  Pietro 
went  to  absurd  lengths  in  this  direction,  and  there  were 
people  who  called  it  affectation  and  made  him  out  to  be 
an  even  worse  man  than  he  was,  but  his  friend  knew 
that  it  was  genuine  in  its  way.  He  was  all  the  more 
disturbed  by  what  he  had  heard,  and  it  was  a  long  time 
before  he  spoke  again. 

Ghisleri  smoked  in  silence  and  drank  three  cups  of 
coffee  while  Arden  was  drinking  one.  He  looked  at  that 
time  like  a  man  who  was  living  upon  his  nerves,  so  to 
say,  instead  of  upon  proper  nourishment. 

An  hour  later  the  two  men  went  out  together,  Arden 
taking  Pietro  with  him  in  his  carriage.  The  air  was 
bright  and  keen  and  the  afternoon  sunlight  was  already 
turning  yellow  with  the  gold  of  the  coming  evening. 
The  carriage  was  momentarily  blocked  at  the  corner  of 
the  Pincio  near  the  entrance,  by  one  that  was  turning 
out  of  the  enclosure  opposite  the  band  stand.  It  chanced 
to  be  the  Princess  of  Gerano's  landau,  and  she  and  her 
daughter  were  seated  in  it,  closely  wrapped  in  their  furs. 
It  was  Arden's  victoria  that  had  to  pull  up  to  let  the 
Princess  drive  across,  and  by  a  coincidence  the  Savelli 
couple  were  in  the  one  which  hers  would  have  to  follow 
in  the  descending  line  after  crossing  the  road. 

Francesco  Savelli  bowed,  smiled,  and  waved  his  hat, 
evidently  to  Laura  rather  than  to  her  mother.  With  a 
rather  forced  smile  Adele  slowly  bent  her  head.  Arden 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  23 

bowed  at  the  same  moment,  and  looked  from  one 
carriage  to  the  other.  Ghisleri  followed  his  example, 
arid  there  was  the  very  faintest  expression  of  amusement 
on  his  face,  which  Arden  of  course  could  not  see.  A 
number  of  men  on  foot  lined  the  side  of  the  road  close  to 
the  carriage. 

"  People  always  come  back  to  their  first  loves  !    said  a 
low  voice  at  Arden's  elbow. 

He  turned  quickly  and  saw  several  men  watching  the 
Savelli  across  his  victoria.     He  knew  none  of  them,  and 
it  was  impossible  to  guess  which  had  spoken.     Ghisleri, 
being  on  the  right  side,  as  Arden's  guest,  could  not  have 
heard  the  words.     Having  just  noticed  the  rather  strik 
ing  contrast  between  Francesco  Savelli's  demonstrative 
greeting  and  his  wife's  almost  indifferent  nod,  it  natu 
rally  struck  the  Englishman  that  the  remark   he   had 
overheard  might   refer   to   the   person   he  was  himself 
watching   at    that    moment.      Donna     Adele    Savelli's 
expression  might  very  well  be  taken  for  one  of  jealousy, 
but  her  husband's  behaviour  was  assuredly  too  marked 
for  anything  more  than  friendship.     Arden  coupled  the 
words  with  the  facts  and  concluded  that  he  had  discov 
ered  the  story  of  which  Ghisleri  had  spoken.     Francesco 
Savelli  was  said  to  be  in  love  with  Laura  Carlyon.    That 
was  evidently  the  gossip ;  but  he  had  seen  Laura's  face, 
too,  and  it  was  quite  plain  that  she  was  wholly  indifferent. 
On  the  whole,  though  the  tale  reflected  little  credit  on 
Savelli,  it  was  not  at  all  clear  why  it  should  make  Laura 
unpopular,  unless  people  said  that  she  encouraged  the 
man,  which  they  probably  did,  thought   Lord  Herbert 
Arden,  who  was  a  man  of  the  world. 

The  more  he  considered  the  matter  the  more  convinced 
he  became  that  he  was  right,  and  the  conviction  was  on 
the  whole  a  relief.  He  had  been  uneasy  for  some  time, 
and  Ghisleri's  guarded  words  had  not  satisfied  him  ; 
chance,  however,  had  done  what  Ghisleri  would  not  do, 
and  the  mystery  was  solved.  The  Princess  of  Gerano 
was  at  home  that  evening,  and  Arden  of  course  went  to 
the  palace  early,  and  was  the  last  to  leave. 


24  PIETEO   GHISLERI. 

Three  times  between  half-past  ten  and  half-past  two 
o'clock  Laura  and  he  installed  themselves  side  by  side 
at  some  distance  from  the  drawing-room,  and  each  time 
their  conversation  lasted  over  half  an  hour.     It  was  not 
a  set  ball,  but  one  of  the  regular  weekly  informal  dances 
of  which  there  are  so  many  in  Rome  during  the  season. 
The  first  interruption  of  Arden's  talk  appeared  in  the 
shape  of  Don  Francesco  Savelli,  who  asked  Laura  for  a 
turn.     Oddly  enough  she  glanced  at  Lord  Herbert's  face 
before  accepting,  and  the  action  sent  a  strange  thrill  to 
his  heart.     He  struggled  to  his  feet  as  she  rose  to  go 
away  with  Savelli,  and  then  sank  back  again  and  remained 
some  time  where  he  was,  absently  watching  the  people 
who  passed.     His  face  was  very  pale  and  weary  now  that 
the  excitement  of  conversation  had  subsided,  and  he  felt 
that  if  he  was  not  positively  ill,  he  was  losing  the  little 
strength  he  had  with  every  day  that  passed.    Late  hours, 
heated  rooms,  and  strong  emotions   were  not  the  best 
tonics  for  his  feeble  physical  organisation,  and  he  knew  it. 
At  last  he  made  an  effort,  got  up,  and  moved  about  in  the 
crowd,  exchanging  a  few  words  now  and  then  with  a  pass 
ing  acquaintance,  but  too  preoccupied  and  perhaps  too 
tired  to  talk  long  with  indifferent  people.     He  nodded  as 
Ghisleri  passed  him  with  the  Contessa  dell'  Armi  on  his 
arm,  and  he  thought  there  was  a  bad  light  in  his  friend's 
eyes,  though  Pietro  was  looking  better  than  in  the  after 
noon.    The  two  had  evidently  been  dancing  together,  for 
the  Contessa's  white  neck  heaved  a  little,  as  though  she 
were  still  out  of  breath.     She  was  a  short,  slight  woman 
of  exquisite  figure,  very  fair,  with  deep  violet  eyes  and 
small  classic  features,  almost  hard  in  their  regularity; 
evidently   wilful   and   dominant   in   character.      Arden 
watched  the  pair  as  they  went  on  in  search  of  a  vacant 
sofa  just  big  enough  for  two. 

They  had  scarcely  sat  down  and  he  could  see  that  Ghis 
leri  was  beginning  to  talk,  when  Anastase  Gouache  ap 
peared  and  stood  still  before  them.  To  Arden's  surprise 
the  Contessa  welcomed  him  with  a  bright  smile  and 


P1ETKO    GHISLERI.  25 

pointed  to  a  chair  at  her  side  of  the  sofa.  Anastase 
Gouache  was  a  celebrated  painter  who  had  married  a  Ro 
man  lady  of  high  birth,  and  was  a  very  agreeable  man, 
but  Arden  had  not  expected  that  he  would  be  invited  so 
readily  to  interrupt  so  promising  a  conversation.  Ghis- 
leri's  face  expressed  nothing.  He  appeared  to  join  in  the 
talk  for  a  few  minutes  and  then  rose  and  left  the  Contessa 
with  Gouache.  She  looked  after  him,  and  Arden  thought 
she  grew  a  shade  paler  and  frowned.  A  faint  smile  ap 
peared  on  the  Englishman's  face  and  was  gone  again  in 
an  instant  as  Ghisleri  came  near  him,  returning  again  to 
the  ball-room.  Ghisleri  had  glanced  at  him  as  he  passed 
and  had  seen  that  he  was  not  talking  to  a  lady. 

"  May  I  have  the  next  dance,  Miss  Carlyon  ?  "  asked 
Pietro,  when  he  found  Laura  in  a  corner  with  Francesco 
Savelli.  "Thanks,"  he  said,  as  she  nodded  graciously, 
and  he  passed  on. 

"Will  you  give  me  the  dance  after  the  next  ?"  he  in 
quired  a  few  minutes  later,  coming  up  with  Donna  Adele, 
who  was  moving  away  on  young  Frangipani's  arm. 

"  Certainly,  caro  Ghisleri,"  she  answered,  with  alacrity, 
"  as  many  as  you  please." 

"You  are  very  good,"  he  said,  with  a  slight  bow,  and 
withdrew  to  a  window  near  Laura  to  wait  until  the  waltz 
began.  He  could  see  Arden  through  the  open  door  from 
the  place  where  he  stood. 

When  the  dance  was  over  he  led  Laura  out  and  took 
one  turn  through  the  rooms,  making  a  few  commonplace 
remarks  on  the  way.  Coming  back,  he  stopped  as  though 
by  accident  close  to  Lord  Herbert. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  think  me  very  rude  if  I  ask  you 
to  let  me  leave  you,"  he  said.  "  I  am  engaged  for  the 
next  dance  —  it  is  a  quadrille  —  and  I  must  find  a  vis-a- 
vis." 

Arden  of  course  heard  and  presented  himself  immedi 
ately  in  Ghisleri' s  place.  Laura  was  quite  ready  to  go 
back  with  him  to  the  sofa  in  the  corner,  and  they  re 
sumed  their  conversation  almost  at  the  point  at  which  it 


26  PIETKO    GHiSLERI. 

had  been  interrupted  by  Francesco  Savelli.  Neither  of 
them  ever  knew  that  Ghisleri  had  brought  them  together 
again  by  a  little  social  skill,  just  beyond  what  most  peo 
ple  possess.  Arden  looted  after  him,  half  believing  that 
he  had  only  given  Laura  an  excuse  for  leaving  her  in 
order  to  return  to  the  Contessa  dell'  Armi,  who  was  now 
surrounded  by  half  a  dozen  men,  beginning  with  old 
Spicca,  who,  as  has  been  said,  was  still  alive  in  those  days, 
and  ending  with  the  little  Vicomte  de  Bompierre,  a  young 
French  attache  with  a  pleasant  voice,  a  bright  smile,  and 
an  incipient  black  moustache.  But  to  Arden's  surprise 
Ghisleri  took  quite  a  different  direction,  and  began  to 
speak  to  one  man  after  another,  evidently  trying  to 
secure  a  vis-a-vis  for  the  square  dance. 

"You  must  not  let  me  bore  you,  or  rather  you  must 
not  bore  yourself  with  me,"  said  Arden  to  Laura,  after  a 
short  pause  in  the  conversation.  "You  are  altogether 
much  too  good  to  me." 

"  You  never  bore  me,"  answered  the  young  girl.  "You 
are  one  of  the  few  people  who  do  not." 

Arden  smiled  a  little  sadly. 

"I  am  glad  to  be  one  of  the  'few  people/ "he  said, 
"even  if  I  am  the  last." 

"  You  are  too  modest."  She  tried  to  laugh,  but  the 
effort  was  not  very  successful. 

"No,  I  am  not.  I  have  much  more  vanity  than  you 
would  suppose,  or  think  possible,  considering  how  little  I 
have  to  be  vain  of." 

"Opinions  may  differ  about  that,"  answered  Laura, 
looking  into  his  eyes.  "  You  have  much  that  many  men 
might  envy,  and  probably  do." 

"What,  for  instance?" 

Laura  hesitated,  and  then  smiled,  without  effort  this 
time. 

"  You  are  very  good  looking,"  she  said  after  a  moment. 

"No  one  has  ever  told  me  that  before,"  he  answered. 
A  very  slight  flush  rose  in  his  pale  face. 

"It  is  not  of  much  importance,  either.  Would  you 
like  me  to  enumerate  your  good  qualities  ?  " 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  27 

"Of  all  things!" 

"  You  are  honest  and  kind,  and  you  are  very  clever,  I 
think,  though  I  am  not  clever  enough  to  be  sure.  You 
have  no  right  to  be  unhappy,  and  you  would  not  be  if  you 
were  not  so  sensitive  about  —  about  not  being  so  strong 
and  big  as  some  men  are.  What  difference  does  it  make  ?  " 

"You  will  almost  tempt  me  to  think  that  it  makes 
none,  if  you  talk  in  that  way,'7  said  Arden. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  would  really  and  truly 
change  places  with  any  one  ?  With  Signer  Ghisleri,  for 
instance  ?  " 

"Indeed  I  would,  with  him,  and  very  gladly.  I  would 
rather  be  Ghisleri  than  any  man  I  know." 

"  I  cannot  understand  that,"  answered  Laura,  thought 
fully.  "If  I  were  a  man,  I  would  much  rather  be  like 
you.  Besides,  they  say  Signor  Ghisleri  has  been  dread 
fully  wild,  arid  is  anything  but  angelic  now.  You  used 
that  very  word  about  him  the  first  evening  we  met;  do 
you  remember  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do ;  but  what  has  that  to  do  with  it  ? 
Must  I  necessarily  choose  a  saint  for  my  friend,  and  pick 
out  one  to  exchange  places  with  me  if  it  were  possible  ? 
A  woman  saint  may  be  lovable,  too  lovable  perhaps,  but 
a  man  saint  about  town  is  like  a  fish  out  of  water.  But 
you  are  right  about  Ghisleri,  up  to  a  certain  point,  only 
you  do  not  understand  him.  He  is  an  exceedingly 
righteous  sinner,  but  a  sinner  he  is." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  a  righteous  sinner?"  asked 
Laura,  gravely. 

"Do  not  bring  me  down  to  definitions.  I  have  not  at 
all  a  logical  mind.  I  mean  Ghisleri — that  is  all  I  can 
say.  I  would  much  rather  talk  about  you." 

"No,  I  object  to  that.  Tell  me,  since  you  wish  so 
much  to  be  Signor  Ghisleri,  what  do  you  think  you  would 
feel  if  you  were  ?  " 

"What  he  feels  —  everything  that  a  man  can  feel!" 
answered  Arden,  with  a  sudden  change  of  tone.  "  To 
be  straight  and  strong  and  a  match  for  other  men.  Half 
the  happiness  of  life  lies  there." 


28 


PIETKO   GHISLEEI. 


His  voice  shook  a  little,  and  Laura  felt  that  the 
tears  were  almost  in  her  eyes  as  she  looked  earnestly 
into  his. 

«  You  see  what  I  am,"  he  continued,  more  and  more 
bitterly,  "I  am  a  cripple.  There  is  no  denying  it  — 
why  should  I  even  try  to  hide  it  a  little  ?  Nature,  or 
Heaven,  or  what  you  please  to  call  it,  has  been  good 
enough  to  make  concealment  impossible.  If  I  am  not 
quite  a  hunchback,  I  am  very  near  it,  and  I  can  hardly 
walk  even  with  a  stick.  And  look  at  yourself,  straight 
and  graceful  and  beautiful  —  well,  you  pity  me,  at  least 
Why  should  I  make  a  fool  of  myself?  It  is  the  first 
time  I  ever  spoke  like  this  to  any  one.'7 

"You  are  quite  wrong,"  answered  Laura,  in  a  tone  of 
conviction.  « I  do  not  pity  you  —  indeed  I  do  not  think 
you  are  the  least  to  be  pitied.  I  see  it  quite  differently. 
It  hardly  ever  strikes  me  that  you  are  not  just  the  same 
as  other  people,  and  when  it  does  — I  do  not  know  — I 
mean  to  say  that  when  it  does,  it  makes  no  painful  im 
pression  upon  me.  You  see  I  am  quite  frank." 

While  she  was  speaking  the  colour  rose  in  two  bright 
spots  on  Arden's  pale  cheeks,  and  his  bright  eyes  softened 
with  a  look  of  wonderful  happiness. 

"  Are  you  quite  in  earnest,  Miss  Carlyon  ?  "  he  asked 
in  a  low  voice. 

"  Quite,  quite  in  earnest.  Please  believe  me  when  I 
say  that  it  would  hurt  me  dreadfully  if  I  thought  you 
doubted  it." 

"Hurt  you?     Why?" 

She  turned  her  deep,  sad  eyes  to  him,  and  looked  at 
him  without  speaking.  He  was  on  the  point  of  telling 
her  that  he  loved  her— then  he  saw  how  beautiful  she 
was,  and  he  felt  his  withered  knee  under  his  hand,  and 
he  was  ashamed  to  speak.  It  was  a  cruel  moment,  and 
his  nerves  were  already  overstrained  by  perpetual  emo 
tion,  as  well  as  tired  from  late  hours  and  lack  of  sleep. 
He  hesitated  a  moment.  Then  bent  his  head  and  covered 
his  eyes  with  his  hand.  Laura  said  nothing  for  several 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  29 

moments,  but  seeing  that  he  did  not  move,  she  touched 
his  sleeve. 

"  Dear  Lord  Herbert,  do  not  be  so  unhappy,"  she  said 
softly.  "  You  really  have  no  right  to  be,  you  know." 

"  No  right  ?  "  He  looked  up  suddenly.  "  If  you  knew, 
you  would  not  say  that." 

"  I  should  always  say  it.  As  long  as  you  have  friends 
—  friends  who  love  you,  and  would  do  anything  for  you, 
why  should  you  make  yourself  so  miserable  ?  " 

"I  want  more  than  a  friend  —  even  than  friendship." 

«  What  ?  " 

"I  want  love." 

Again  she  gazed  into  his  eyes  and  paused.  Her  face 
was  very  white  —  whiter  than  his.  Then  she  spoke. 

"  Are  you  so  sure  you  have  not  got  that  love  ?  "  she 
asked.  Her  own  voice  trembled  now. 

Arden  started  and  a  look  of  something  almost  like 
fear  came  into  his  face.  He  could  hardly  speak. 

"  Love  ?  "  he  repeated,  and  he  felt  he  could  say  nothing 
more. 

"  Yes,  I  mean  it."     So  she  chose  her  fate. 

She  thought  there  was  a  touch  of  the  divine  in  poor 
Arden's  expression  as  he  heard  the  words.  Then  his 
face  grew  pale,  the  light  faded  from  his  eyes,  and  his 
head  sank  on  his  breast.  Laura  did  not  at  first  realise 
what  had  happened.  She  felt  so  strongly  herself,  that 
nothing  in  his  manner  would  have  surprised  her.  She 
heard  nothing  of  the  hum  of  the  voices  in  the  room,  or 
if  she  did,  she  heard  the  harmony  of  a  happy  hymn,  and 
the  great  branches  of  candles  were  the  tapers  upon  an 
altar  in  some  sacred  place. 

Still  Arden  did  not  move.  Laura  bent  down  and 
looked  at  his  face. 

"  Lord  Herbert ! "  She  called  him  softly.  "  Herbert, 
what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

No  answer  came.  She  looked  round  wildly  for  help. 
At  that  moment  the  dance  was  just  over  and  Ghisleri 
passed  near  her  with  Donna  Adele  on  his  arm.  Laura 


30  PIETRO   GHISLBBI. 

rose  and  overtook  him  swiftly,  touching  his  arm  in  her 
excitement. 

"Lord  Herbert  has  fainted  — for  heaven's  sake,  help 
him ! "  she  cried,  in  a  low  voice. 

Pietro  Ghisleri  glanced  at  the  sofa. 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  said  hastily  to  Donna  Adele,  and  left 
her  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  He  bent  down 
and  felt  Arden's  forehead  and  hands. 

"  Yes,  he  has  fainted,"  he  said  to  Laura.  "  Show  me 
the  way  to  a  quiet  place." 

Thereupon  he  took  his  unconscious  friend  in  his  arms 
and  followed  Laura  quickly  through  the  surging  crowd 
that  already  filled  the  room,  escaping  in  haste  from  the 
heat  as  soon  as  the  dance  was  over  in  the  ball-room 
beyond. 

For  a  few  seconds  one  of  those  total  silences  fell  upon 
the  party  which  always  follow  an  accident.  Then,  as 
Ghisleri  disappeared  with  his  burden,  every  one  began  to 
talk  at  once,  speculating  upon  the  nature  of  Lord  Herbert 
Arden's  indisposition.  Heart  disease  —  epilepsy  —  ner 
vous  prostration  —  most  things  were  suggested. 

"  Probably  too  much  champagne,"  laughed  Donna  Adele 
in  the  ear  of  the  lady  nearest  to  her. 


CHAPTER   III. 

IT  is  perhaps  useless  to  attempt  to  trace  and  recapitu 
late  the  causes  which  had  led  Laura  Carlyon  to  the  state 
of  mind  in  which  she  had  found  courage  to  tell  Arden 
that  she  loved  him.  There  might  be  harder  moments  in 
store  for  her,  but  this  had  been  the  hardest  she  had  known 
hitherto.  Nothing  short  of  a  real  and  great  love,  she 
believed,  could  have  carried  her  through  it,  and  she  had 
been  conscious  for  some  days  that  if  the  opportunity  came 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  31 

she  meant  to  do  what  she  had  done.  In  other  words,  she 
had  been  quite  sure  that  Arden  loved  her  and  that  she 
loved  him.  This  being  granted,  it  was  in  accordance  with 
her  character  to  take  the  initiative.  With,  far  less  sym 
pathy  than  she  felt  in  all  her  thoughts,  she  would  have 
understood  that  a  man  of  his  instincts  would  never  speak 
of  his  love  to  her  unless  almost  directly  bidden  to  do  so. 
Laura  was  slow  to  make  up  her  mind,  sure  of  her  decis 
ion  when  reached,  and  determined  to  act  upon  it  without 
consulting  any  one.  Many  people  said  later  that  she  had 
sacrificed  herself  for  Lord  Herbert's  expected  fortune,  or 
for  his  position.  A  few  said  that  she  was  a  very  good 
woman  and  that,  finding  herself  neglected,  she  had 
decided  to  devote  her  life  to  the  happiness  of  a  very 
unhappy  man  for  whom  she  felt  a  sincere  friendship. 
That  was  at  least  the  more  charitable  view.  But  neither 
was  at  all  the  right  one.  She  honestly  and  really  believed 
that  she  loved  the  man :  she  saw  beyond  a  doubt  that  he 
loved  her,  and  she  took  the  shortest  and  most  direct  way 
of  ending  all  doubts  on  the  subject.  On  that  same  night 
when  Arden  had  quite  recovered  and  had  gone  home  with 
Ghisleri,  she  spoke  to  her  mother  and  told  her  exactly 
what  had  happened. 

The  Princess  of  Gerano  opened  her  quiet  brown  eyes 
very  wide  when  she  heard  the  news.  She  was  handsome 
still  at  five  and  forty,  a  little  stout,  perhaps,  but  well  pro 
portioned.  Her  light  brown  hair  was  turning  grey  at 
the  temples,  but  there  were  few  lines  in  her  smooth,  calm 
face,  and  her  complexion  was  still  almost  youthful,  though 
with  little  colouring.  She  looked  what  she  was,  a  woman 
of  the  world,  very  far  from  worldly,  not  conscious  of  half 
the  evil  that  went  on  around  her,  and  much  given  to 
inward  contemplation  of  a  religious  kind  when  not  ac 
tively  engaged  in  social  duty.  She  had  seen  Laura's 
growing  appreciation  of  Arden  and  had  noticed  the  fre 
quency  of  the  latter's  visits  to  the  house.  But  she  had 
herself  learned  to  like  him  very  much  during  the  last 
month,  and  it  never  suggested  itself  to  her  that  he  could 


32  PIETRO   GH1SLERI. 

wish  to  marry  Laura  nor  that  Laura  could  care  for  him, 
considering  that  he  was  undeniably  a  cripple.  It  was  no 
wonder  that  she  was  surprised. 

"Dear  child,"  she  said,  "I  do  not  know  what  to  say. 
Of  course  I  have  found  out  what  a  really  good  man  he  is, 
though  he  is  so  fond  of  that  wild  .Ghisleri  —  they  are 
always  together.  I  have  a  great  admiration  for  Lord 
Herbert.  As  far  as  position  goes,  there  is  nothing  better, 
and  I  suppose  he  is  rich  enough  to  support  you,  though  I 
do  not  know.  You  see,  darling,  you  have  nothing  but  the 
little  I  can  give  you.  But  never  mind  that  —  there  is 
only  that  one  other  thing  —  I  wish  he  were  not  —  " 

She  checked  herself,  far  too  delicate  to  hurt  her  daugh 
ter  by  too  direct  a  reference  to  Arden's  physical  short 
comings.  But  Laura,  strange  to  say,  was  not  sensitive 
on  that  point. 

"I  know,  mother,"  she  said,  "he  is  deformed.  It  is  of 
no  use  denying  it,  as  he  says  himself.  But  if  I  -do  not 
mind  that  —  if  I  do  not  think  of  it  at  all  when  I  am  with 
him,  why  should  any  one  else  care?  After  all,  if  I 
marry  him,  it  is  to  please  myself,  and  not  the  people 
who  will  ask  us  to  dinner." 

The  young  girl  laughed  happily  as  she  thought  of  the 
new  life  before  her,  and  of  how  she  would  make  every 
thing  easy  for  poor  Arden,  and  make  him  quite  forget 
that  he  could  hardly  walk.  Her  mother  looked  at  her 
with  quiet  wonder. 

"Think  well  before  you  act,  dear,"  she  said.  "Mar 
riage  is  a  very  serious  thing.  There  is  no  drawing  back 
afterwards,  and  if  you  were  to  be  at  all  unkind  after  you 
are  married  —  " 

"  0  mother,  how  can  you  think  that  of  me?  " 

"  No  —  at  least,  you  would  never  mean  it.  You  are  too 
good  for  that.  But  it  would  break  the  poor  man's  heart. 
He  is  very  sensitive,  it  is  not  every  man  who  faints  when 
he  finds  out  that  a  young  girl  loves  him  —  fortunately, 
not  every  man,"  she  added  with  a  smile. 

"  If  every  one  loved  as  we  do,  the  world  would  be  much 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  33 

happier,"  said  Laura,  kissing  her  mother.  "Do  not  be 
afraid,  I  will  not  break  his  heart." 

"  God  grant  you  may  not  break  your  own,  dear !  "  The 
Princess  spoke  in  a  lower  voice,  and  turned  away  her  face 
to  hide  the  tears  that  stood  in  her  eyes. 

"Mine,  mother!"  Laura  bent  over  her  as  she  sat  in 
her  dressing-chair.  "What  is  it?"  she  asked  anxiously, 
as  she  saw  that  her  mother's  cheek  was  wet. 

"  You  are  very  dear  to  me,  child,"  murmured  the  Prin 
cess,  drawing  the  young  head  down  to  her  breast,  and 
kissing  the  thick  black  hair. 

So  the  matter  was  settled,  and  Laura  had  her  way.  It 
is  not  easy  to  say  how  most  mothers  would  have  behaved 
under  the  circumstances.  There  are  worldly  ones  enough 
who  would  have  received  the  news  far  more  gladly  than 
the  Princess  of  Gerano  did ;  and  there  are  doubtless  many 
who  would  refuse  a  cripple  for  a  son-in-law  on  any  con 
dition  whatever.  Laura's  mother  did  what  she  thought 
right,  which  is  more  than  most  of  us  can  say  of  our  actions. 

The  Prince  was  almost  as  much  surprised  as  his  wife 
when  he  learned  the  news,  but  he  was  convinced  that  he 
had  nothing  to  say  in  the  matter.  Laura  was  quite  free 
to  do  as  she  pleased,  and,  moreover,  it  was  a  good  thing 
that  she  should  marry  a  man  of  her  own  faith,  and  ulti 
mately  live  among  her  own  people,  since  nothing  could 
make  either  a  Catholic  or  a  Eoman  of  her.  But  he  was 
not  altogether  pleased  with  her  choice.  He  had  an  Ital 
ian's  exaggerated  horror  of  deformity,  and  though  he 
liked  Lord  Herbert,  he  could  never  quite  overcome  his 
repulsion  for  his  outward  defects.  There  was  nothing  to 
be  done,  however,  and  on  the  whole  the  marriage  had 
much  in  its  favour  in  his  eyes. 

The  engagement  was  accordingly  announced  with  due 
formality,  and  the  wedding  day  was  fixed  for  the  Satur 
day  after  Easter,  which  fell  early  in  that  year.  Not  until 
the  day  before  the  Princess  told  the  news  to  every  one  did 
Arden  communicate  it  to  Ghisleri.  He  had  perfect  con 
fidence  in  his  friend's  discretion,  but  having  said  that  he 


34  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

would  not  speak  of  the  engagement  to  any  one  until  the 
Princess  wished  it,  he  kept  his  word  to  the  letter.  He 
asked  Pietro  to  drive  with  him,  far  out  upon  the  cam- 
pagna.  When  they  had  passed  the  last  houses  and  were 
in  the  open  country  he  spoke. 

"I  am  going  to  marry  Miss  Carlyon,"  he  said  simply, 
but  he  glanced  at  Ghisleri's  face  to  see  the  look  of  sur 
prise  he  expected. 

"  Since  you  announce  it,  my  dear  friend,  I  congratulate 
you  with  all  my  heart,"  answered  Pietro.  "Of  course  I 
knew  it  some  time  ago." 

"You  knew  it?"     Arden  was  very  much  astonished. 

"  It  was  not  very  hard  to  guess.  You  loved  each  other, 
you  went  constantly  to  the  house  and  you  spent  your 
evenings  with  her  in  other  people's  houses,  there  was  no 
reason  why  you  should  not  marry  —  accordingly,  I  took 
it  for  granted  that  you  would  be  married.  You  see  that 
I  was  right.  I  am  delighted.  Ask  me  to  the  wedding." 

Arden  laughed. 

"  I  thought  you  would  never  enter  one  of  our  churches !  " 
he  exclaimed. 

"  I  did  not  know  that  I  had  such  a  reputation  for  devout 
obedience  to  general  rules,"  answered  Ghisleri. 

"  As  for  your  reputation,  my  dear  fellow,  it  is  not  that 
of  a  saint.  But  I  once  saw  you  saying  your  prayers." 

"I  dare  say,"  replied  Pietro,  indifferently.     "I  some-1 
times  do,  but  not  generally  in  the  Corso,  nor  on  the  Pincio. 
How  long  ago  was  that?     Do  you  happen  to  remember?  " 

"  Six  or  seven  years,  I  fancy  —  oh,  yes !  It  was  in  that 
little  church  in  Dieppe,  just  before  you  went  off  on  that 
long  cruise  —  you  remember  it,  too,  I  fancy." 

"  I  suppose  I  thought  I  was  going  to  be  drowned,  and 
was  seized  with  a  passing  ague  of  premature  repentance," 
said  Ghisleri,  lighting  a  cigarette. 

"  What  a  queer  fellow  you  are !  "  observed  Arden,  strik 
ing  a  light  in  his  turn.  "  I  was  talking  with  Miss  Carl- 
yon  about  you  some  time  ago,  and  I  told  her  you  were  a 
sinner,  but  a  righteous  one." 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  35 

"  A  shade  worse  than  others,  perhaps,  because  I  know 
a  little  better  what  I  am  doing,"  answered  G-hisleri,  with 
a  sneer,  evidently  intended  for  himself. 

He  was  looking  at  the  tomb  of  Cecilia  Metella,  as  it 
rose  in  sight  above  the  horses'  heads  at  the  turn  of  the 
road,  and  he  thought  of  what  had  happened  to  him  there 
years  ago,  and  of  the  consequences.  Arden  knew  nothing 
of  the  associations  the  ruin  had  for  his  friend,  and  laughed 
again.  He  was  in  a  very  happy  humour  on  that  day,  as 
he  was  for  many  days  afterwards. 

"  I  can  never  quite  make  you  out,"  he  said.  "  Are  you 
good,  bad,  or  a  humbug?  You  cannot  be  both  good  and 
bad  at  once,  you  know." 

"  No.  But  one  may  be  often  bad,  and  sometimes  do 
decently  good  deeds,"  observed  Ghisleri,  with  a  dry 
laugh.  "  Let  us  talk  of  your  marriage  instead  of  spec 
ulating  on  my  salvation,  or  more  probable  perdition,  if 
there  really  is  such  a  thing.  When  is  the  wedding  day  ?  " 

Arden  was  full  of  plans  for  the  future,  and  they  drove 
far  out,  talking  of  all  that  was  before  the  young  couple. 

On  the  following  day  the  news  was  announced  to  the 
city  and  the  world.  The  world  held  up  its  hands  in  won 
der,  and  its  tongue  wagged  for  a  whole  week  and  a  few 
days  more.  Laura  Carlyon  was  to  marry  a  penniless 
cripple  of  the  most  dissipated  habits.  How  shocking! 
Of  course  every  one  knew  that  Lord  Herbert  had  not 
fainted  at  all  on  that  night  at  the  Palazzo  Braccio,  but  had 
succumbed,  in  the  natural  course  of  events,  to  the  effects 
of  the  champagne  he  had  taken  at  dinner.  That  was  now 
quite  certain.  And  the  whole  world  was  well  aware  that 
his  father  had  cut  him  off  with  a  pittance  on  account  of 
his  evil  ways,  and  that  his  brother  had  twice  paid  his 
gambling  debts  to  save  the  family  name  from  disgrace. 
Englishmen  as  a  race,  and  English  cripples  in  particular, 
were  given  to  drink  and  high  play.  The  man  had  actually 
been  the  worse  for  wine  when  talking  to  Laura  Carlyon 
in  her  mother's  house,  and  Ghisleri  had  been  obliged  to 
carry  him  out  for  decency's  sake  before  anything  worse 


36  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

happened.  Scandalous!  It  was  a  wonder  that  Ghisleri, 
who,  after  all,  was  a  gentleman,  could  associate  with  such 
a  fellow.  After  all,  nobody  ever  liked  Laura  Carlyon 
since  she  had  first  appeared  in  society,  soon  after  dear 
Donna  Adele's  marriage.  It  was  as  well  that  she  should 
go  to  England  and  live  with  her  tipsy  cripple.  She  was 
good-looking,  as  some  people  admitted.  She  might  win 
the  heart  of  her  brother-in-law  and  induce  him  to  pay  her 
husband's  debts  a  third  time.  They  were  said  to  be 
enormous. 

The  men  were,  on  the  whole,  more  charitable.  Con 
scious  of  their  own  shortcomings,  they  did  not  blame  Lord 
Herbert  very  severely  for  taking  a  little  too  much  "  extra 
dry."  They  did,  however,  abuse  him  somewhat  roundly 
at  the  club,  for  having  gone  to  the  Gerano  party  at  all 
when  he  should  have  known  that  he  was  not  steady.  Of 
the  facts  themselves  they  had  not  the  slightest  doubt. 
Unfortunately  for  one  of  them  who  happened  to  be 
declaiming  on  the  subject,  but  who  was  really  by  no  means 
a  bad  fellow,  he  did  not  notice  that  Ghisleri  had  entered 
the  room  before  he  had  finished  his  speech.  When  he 
had  quite  done,  Ghisleri  came  forward. 

"  Arden  is  my  old  friend,"  he  said  quietly.  "  He  never 
drinks.  He  has  a  disease  of  the  heart  and  he  fainted 
from  the  heat.  The  doctor  and  I  took  him  home  together. 
I  hope  that  none  of  you  will  take  up  this  disgusting  story, 
which  was  started  by  the  women.  And  I  hope  Pietrasanta, 
there,  will  do  me  the  honour  to  believe  what  I  say,  and 
to  tell  you  that  he  was  mistaken." 

Ghisleri  was  not  a  pleasant  person  to  quarrel  with,  and 
moreover  had  the  reputation  of  being  truthful.  His  story, 
too,  was  quite  as  probable  as  the  other,  to  say  the  least 
of  it.  Don  Gianbattista  Pietrasanta  glanced  quickly  from 
one  to  the  other  of  the  men  who  were  seated  around  him 
as  though  to  ask  their  advice  in  the  matter.  Several  of 
them  nodded  almost  imperceptibly,  as  though  counselling 
him  to  do  as  Ghisleri  requested.  There  was  nothing  at 
all  aggressive  in  the  latter's  manner,  either,  as  he  quietly 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  37 

lit  a  cigarette  while  waiting  for  the  other's  answer. 
Suddenly  a  deep  voice  was  heard  from  another  corner  of 
the  room.  The  Marchese  di  San  Giacinto,  giant  in  body 
and  fortune,  had  been  reading  the  paper  with  the  utmost 
indifference  during  all  the  previous  conversation.  All  at 
once  he  spoke,  deliberately  and  to  the  point. 

"  It  is  no  business  of  mine/7  he  said,  "  as  I  do  not  know 
Lord  Herbert  Arden  except  by  sight.  But  I  was  at  the 
dance  the  other  night,  and  half  an  hour  before  the  occur 
rence  you  are  discussing,  Lord  Herbert  was  standing 
beside  me,  talking  of  the  Egyptian  difficulty  with  the 
French  ambassador.  I  have  often  seen  men  drunk.  Lord 
Herbert  Arden  was,  in  my  opinion,  perfectly  sober." 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this  statement,  San  Gia- 
cinto  put  his  very  black  cigar  between  his  teeth  again 
and  took  up  the  evening  paper  he  had  been  reading. 

In  the  face  of  such  men  as  Ghisleri  and  the  Marchese, 
it  would  have  been  the  merest  folly  to  continue  any  oppo 
sition.  Moreover,  Pietrasanta  was  neither  stupid  nor 
bad,  and  he  was  not  a  coward. 

"I  do  not  know  Lord  Herbert  Arden  myself,"  he  said 
without  affectation.  "  What  I  said  I  got  on  hearsay,  and 
the  whole  story  is  evidently  a  fabrication  which  we  ought 
to  deny.  For  the  rest,  Ghisleri,  if  you  are  not  quite 
satisfied  —  "  He  stopped  and  looked  at  Pietro. 

"My  dear  fellow,"  said  the  latter,  "what  more  could  I 
have  to  say  about  the  affair?  You  all  seemed  to  be  in  the 
dark,  and  I  wanted  to  clear  the  matter  up  for  the  sake  of 
my  old  friend.  That  is  all.  I  am  very  much  obliged  to 
you." 

After  this  incident  there  was  less  talk  at  the  clubs,  and 
in  a  few  days  the  subject  dropped.  But  the  world  said, 
as  usual,  that  all  the  men  were  afraid  of  Ghisleri,  who 
was  a  duellist,  and  of  San  Giacinto,  who  was  a  giant, 
and  who  had  taken  the  trouble  to  learn  to  fence  when,  he 
first  came  to  Eome,  and  that  they  had  basely  eaten  their 
words.  Men  were  such  cowards,  said  the  world. 

Lord  Herbert  and  Laura  lived  in  blissful  ignorance  of 


38  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

what  was  said  about  them.     The  preparations  for  the 
wedding  were  already  begun,  and  Laura's  modest  trous 
seau  was  almost  all  ordered.    She  and  Arden  had  discussed 
their  future,  and  having  realised  that  they  must  live  in  a 
very  economical  fashion  for  the  present  and  so  long  as  it 
pleased  Heaven  to  preserve  Arden's  maternal  uncle  among 
the  living,  they  decided  that  the  wedding  should  be  as 
quiet  and  unostentatious  as  possible.     The  old  Prince, 
however,  though  far  too  conscientious  to  have  settled  a 
penny  of  his  inherited  fortune  upon  Laura,  even  if  she 
had  chosen  to  marry  a  pauper,  was  not  ungenerous  in 
other  ways,  and  considered  himself  at  liberty  to  offer  the 
pair  some  very  magnificent  silver,  which  he  was  able  to 
pay  for  out  of  his  private  economies.    As  for  Donna  Adele, 
she  presented  them  with  a  couple  of  handsome  wine- 
coolers  —  doubtless  in  delicate  allusion  to  the  fictitious 
story  about  the  champagne  Lord  Herbert  was  supposed 
to  have  taken.     The  implied  insult,  if  there  was  any,  was 
not  at  all  noticed  by  those  who  had  never  heard  the  tale, 
however,  and  Adele  had  to  bide  her  time  for  the  present. 
Meanwhile  the  season  tore  along  at  a  break-neck  pace, 
and  Lent  was  fast  approaching.      Everybody  saw  and 
danced  with  almost  everybody  else  every  night,  and  some 
of  them  supped  afterwards  and  gambled  till  midday,  and 
were  surprised  to  find  that  their  nerves  were  shaky,  and 
their  livers  slightly  eccentric,  and  their  eyes  anything  but 
limpid.     But  they  all  knew  that  the  quiet  time  was  com 
ing,  the  Lent  wherein  no  man  can  dance,  nor  woman 
either,  and  they  amused  themselves  with  a  contempt  for 
human  life  which  would  have  amounted  to  heroism  if  dis 
played  in  a  good  cause.    "  They  "  of  course  means  the  gay 
set  of  that  particular  year.     As  the  Princess  of  Gerano 
gave  regular  informal  dances,  and  two  balls  at  the  end  of 
Carnival,  she  and  her  daughter  were  considered  to  belong 
more  or  less  to  the  company  of  the  chief  merry-makers. 
The  Savelli  couple  were  in  it,  also,  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Gouache  was  in  it  when  he  pleased,  a  dozen  or  fifteen 
young  members  of  the  diplomatic  corps,  old  Spicca,  who 


PIETEO   GHISLERI.  39 

always  went  everywhere,  the  Contessa  dell'  Armi,  whose 
husband  was  in  parliament  and  rarely  went  into  society, 
Ghisleri  and  twenty  or  thirty  others,  men  and  women  who 
were  young  or  thought  themselves  so. 

About  three  weeks  before  Ash  Wednesday,  Anastase 
Gouache,  the  perennially  young,  had  a  brilliant  inspira 
tion.     His  studio  was  in  an  historical  palace,  and  con 
sisted  of  three  halls  which  might  have  passed  for  churches 
in  any  other  country,  so  far  as  their  size  was  concerned. 
He  determined  to  give  a  Shrove  Tuesday  supper  to  the 
gay  set,  with  a  tableau,  and  a  long  final  waltz  afterwards, 
by  way  of  interring  the  mangled  remains  of  the  season, 
as  he  expressed  it.     The  supper  should  be  at  the  usual 
dinner  hour  instead  of  at  one  o'clock,  because  the  gay  set 
was  not  altogether  as  scarlet  as  it  was  painted,  and  did 
not,  as  a  whole,  care  to  dance  into  the  morning  of  Ash 
Wednesday.      The   tableau   should    represent   Carnival 
meeting  Lent.    The  Contessa  dell'  Armi  should  be  in  it, 
and  Ghisleri,  and  Donna  Adele,  and  possibly  San  Giacinto 
might  be  induced  to  appear  as  a  mask.     His  enormous 
stature  would  be  very  imposing.     The  Contessa,  with  her 
classic  features  and  violet  eyes,  would  make  an  admirable 
nun,  and  there  would  be  no  difficulty  in  getting  together 
a  train  of  revellers.     Ghisleri,  lean,  straight,   and  tall, 
would  do  for  a  Satanic  being  of  some  kind,  and  could  head 
the  Carnival  procession.     The  whole  thing  would  not  last 
five  minutes  and  the  dancing  should  begin  at  once. 

"Could  you  not  say  something,  my  friend?"  asked 
Gouache,  as  he  talked  the  matter  over  with  Ghisleri. 

"  I  could,  if  you  could  find  something  for  me  to  say," 
answered  the  latter.  " But  of  what  use  would  it  be?  " 

"The  density  of  the  public,"  replied  the  great  painter, 
"  is,  to  use  the  jargon  of  science,  as  cotton  wool  multiplied 
into  cast  iron.  You  either  sink  into  it  and  make  no  noise 
at  all,  or  you  knock  your  head  against  and  cannot  get 
through  it.  You  have  never  sent  a  picture  to  the  Salon 
without  naming  it,  or  you  would  understand  exactly  what 
I  mean.  They  took  a  picture  I  once  painted,  as  an  altar 


40  PIETRO  GHISLEEI. 

piece,  for  a  scene  from  the  Decameron,  I  believe  —  but  that 
was  when  1  was  young  and  had  illusions.  On  the  whole, 
you  had  better  find  something  to  say,  and  say  it  —  verse, 
if  possible.  They  say  you  have  a  knack  at  verses." 

"  Carnival  meeting  Lent, "  said  Ghisleri,  thoughtfully. 
Then  he  laughed.  "  T  will  try  —  though  I  am  no  poet. 
I  will  trust  a  little  to  my  acting  to  help  my  lame  feet." 

Ghisleri  laughed  again,  as  though  an  amusing  idea  had 
struck  him.  That  night  he  went  home  early,  and  as  very 
often  happened,  in  a  bad  humour  with  himself  and  with 
most  things.  He  was  a  very  unhappy  man,  who  felt 
himself  to  be  always  the  centre  of  a  conflict  between  oppos 
ing  passions,  and  he  had  long  been  in  the  habit  of  throw 
ing  into  a  rough,  impersonal  shape,  the  thoughts  that 
crossed  his  mind  about  himself  and  others,  when  he  was 
alone  at  night.  Being,  as  he  very  truly  said,  no  poet, 
he  quickly  tore  up  such  odds  and  ends  of  halting  rhyme 
or  stumbling  prose,  either  as  soon  as  they  were  written, 
or  the  next  morning.  Whatever  the  form  of  these  pro 
ductions  might  be,  the  ideas  they  expressed  were  rarely 
feeble  and  were  indeed  sometimes  so  strong  that  they 
might  have  even  shocked  some  unusually  sensitive  person 
in  the  gay  set. 

Being,  as  has  been  said,  in  a  bad  humour  on  that  par 
ticular  evening,  he  naturally  had  something  to  say  to 
himself  on  paper,  and  as  he  took  his  pencil  he  thought 
of  Gouache's  suggestion.  In  a  couple  of  hours  he  had  got 
what  he  wanted  and  went  to  sleep.  The  great  artist  liked 
the  verses  when  Ghisleri  read  them  to  him  on  the  follow 
ing  day,  the  Contessa  consented  to  act  the  part  of  the  nun, 
and  the  affair  was  settled. 

It  was  a  great  success.  Gouache's  wife,  Donna  Faus 
tina,  had  entered  into  her  husband's  plans  with  all  her 
heart.  She  was  of  the  Montevarchi  family,  sister  to  the 
Marchesa  di  San  Giacinto,  the  latter's  husband  being  a  Sar- 
acinesca,  as  every  Italian  knows.  Gouache  did  things  in 
a  princely  fashion,  and  sixty  people,  including  all  the  gay 
set  and  a  few  others,  sat  down  to  the  dinner  which  Anas- 


PIETEO*  GHISLEBI.  41 

tase  was  pleased  to  call  a  supper.  Every  one  was  very 
gay.  Almost  every  one  was  in  some  fancy  dress  or 
mask,  there  was  no  order  of  precedence,  and  all  were 
placed  where  they  would  have  the  best  chance  of  amus 
ing  themselves.  The  halls  of  the  studio,  with  their  mag 
nificent  tapestries  and  almost  priceless  objects  of  art, 
were  wonderful  to  see  in  the  bright  light.  Many  of  the 
costumes  were  really  superb  and  all  were  brilliant.  No 
one  knew  what  was  to  take  place  after  supper,  but  every 
one  was  sure  there  was  to  be  dancing,  and  all  were 
aware  that  it  was  the  last  dance  before  Easter,  and  that 
the  best  dancers  in  Rome  were  all  present. 

One  of  the  halls  had  been  hastily  fitted  up  as  a  theatre, 
with  a  little  stage,  a  row  of  footlights,  and  a  background 
representing  a  dark  wall,  with  a  deep  archway  in  the 
middle,  like  the  door  of  a  church.  When  every  one  was 
seated,  a  deep,  clear  voice  spoke  out  a  little  prologue  from 
behind  the  scenes,  and  the  figures,  as  they  were  described, 
moved  out  from  opposite  sides  of  the  stage  to  meet  and 
group  themselves  before  the  painted  doorway.  Let  pro 
logue  and  verse  speak  for  themselves. 

"It  was  nearly  midnight  —  the  midnight  that  ends 
Shrove  Tuesday  and  begins  Ash  Wednesday,  dividing 
Carnival  from  Lent.  I  left  the  tables,  where  all  the 
world  of  Eome  was  feasting,  and  pretending  that  the  feast 
was  the  last  of  the  year.  The  brilliant  light  flashed  upon 
silver  and  gold,  dyed  itself  in  amber  and  purple  wine,  ran 
riot  amongst  jewels,  and  blazed  upon  many  a  fair  face 
and  snowy  neck.  The  clocks  were  all  stopped,  lest  some 
tinkling  bell  should  warn  men  and  women  that  the  day 
of  laughter  was  over,  and  that  the  hour  of  tears  had  struck. 
But  1,  broken-hearted,  sick  in  soul  and  weary  of  the  two 
months'  struggle  with  evil  fate,  turned  away  from  them 
and  left  them  to  all  they  loved,  and  to  all  that  I  could 
never  love  again. 

"  I  passed  through  the  deserted  ball-room,  and  my  heart 
sank  as  I  thought  of  what  was  over  and  done.  The 
polished  floor  was  strewn  with  withered  blossoms,  with 


42  PIETRO   GHISLEKI. 

torn  and  crumpled  favours  from  the  dance,  with  shreds 
of  gauze  and  lace ;  many  chairs  were  overturned ;  the  light 
streamed  down  like  day  upon  a  great  desolation;  the 
heated  air  was  faint  with  the  sad  odour  of  dead  flowers. 
There  was  the  corner  where  we  sat,  she  and  I,  to-night, 
last  week,  a  week  before  that  —  where  we  shall  never  sit 
again,  for  neither  of  us  would.  I  shivered  as  I  went  out 
into  the  night. 

"  Through  the  dark  streets  I  went,  not  knowing  and 
not  caring  whither,  nor  hearing  the  tinkling  mandolines 
and  changing  songs  of  the  revellers  who  passed  me  on 
their  homeward  way." 

At  this  point  a  mandoline  was  really  heard  in  the  very 
faintest  tones  from  behind  the  scenes,  playing  scarcely 
above  a  whisper,  as  it  were,  the  famous  "  Tout  pour 
P  amour  "  waltz  of  Waldteuffel. 

"Suddenly,"  the  voice  resumed,  above  the  delicate 
notes  of  the  instrument,  "the  bells  rang  out  and  I  knew 
that  my  last  Carnival  was  dead."  Here  deep-toned  bells 
struck  twelve,  while  the  mandoline  still  continued. 
"Then,  all  at  once,  I  was  aware  of  two  figures  in  the 
gloom,  advancing  towards  the  door  of  a  church  in  front 
of  me.  The  one  was  a  woman,  a  nun  in  white  robe  and 
black  hood,  whose  saintly  violet  eyes  seemed  to  shine 
in  the  darkness.  The  other  was  a  monk." 

The  Contessa  dell'  Armi  came  slowly  forward,  her  pale, 
clear  face  lifted  and  thrown  into  strong  relief  by  the  black 
head-dress,  grasping  a  heavy  rosary  in  her  folded  hands. 
Behind  her  came  San  Giacinto,  recognisable  only  by  his 
colossal  stature,  his  face  hidden  in  the  shadow  of  a  black 
cowl.  Both  were  admirable,  and  a  murmur  of  satisfac 
tion  ran  through  the  room. 

"As  they  reached  the  door,"  continued  the  reader,  "a 
wild  train  of  maskers  broke  into  the  street." 

Ghisleri  entered  from  the  opposite  side,  arrayed  some 
what  in  the  manner  of  Mephistopheles,  a  mandoline  slung 
over  his  shoulder,  on  which  he  was  playing.  Donna 
Adele  and  a  dozen  others  followed  him  closely,  in  every 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  43 

variety  of  brilliant  Carnival  dress,  dancing  forward  with 
tambourines  and  castanets,  their  eyes  bright,  their  steps 
cadenced  to  the  rhythm  of  the  waltz  tune  which  now  broke 
out  loud  and  clear  —  fair  young  women  with  flushed 
cheeks,  all  life,  and  motion,  and  laughter;  and  young  men 
following  them  closely,  laughing,  and  talking,  and  sing 
ing,  all  dancing  in  and  out  with  changing  steps.  Then 
all  at  once  the  music  died  away  to  a  whisper ;  the  nun 
and  the  monk  stood  back  as  though  in  horror  against  the 
church  door,  while  the  revellers  grouped  themselves 
together  in  varied  poses  around  them,  Ghisleri  the  cen 
tral  figure  in  the  midst,  bowing  with  a  diabolical  smile 
before  the  white-robed  nun. 

"  In  front  of  all, "  said  the  voice  again,  "  stood  one  whose 
face  I  shall  never  forget,  for  it  was  like  my  own.  The 
features  were  mine,  but  upon  them  were  reflected  all  the 
sins  of  my  life,  and  all  the  evil  I  have  done.  I  thought 
the  other  revellers  did  not  see  him." 

Again  the  music  swelled  and  rose,  and  the  train  of 
dancers  passed  on  with  song  and  laughter,  and  disap 
peared  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  stage.  Ghisleri  alone 
stood  still  before  the  saint-like  figure  of  the  Contessa 
dell'  Armi,  bowing  low  and  holding  out  to  her  a  tall  red 
glass. 

"He  who  was  like  me  stayed  behind,"  continued  the 
reader,  "and  the  light  from  his  glass  seemed  to  shine 
upon  the  saintly  woman's  face,  and  she  drew  back  as 
though  from  contamination,  to  the  monk's  side  for  pro 
tection.  I  knew  her  face  when  I  saw  it  —  the  face  I  have 
known  too  long,  too  well.  Then  he  who  was  like  me 
spoke  to  her,  and  the  voice  was  my  own,  but  as  I  would 
have  had  it  when  I  have  been  worst." 

As  the  reader  ceased  Ghisleri  began  to  speak.  His 
voice  was  strong,  but  capable  of  considerable  softness  and 
passionate  expression,  and  he  did  his  best  to  render  his 
own  irregular  verses  both  intelligible  and  moving  to  his 
hearers,  in  which  effort  he  was  much  helped  by  the  dress 
he  wore  and  by  the  gestures  he  made  use  of. 


44  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

"  So  we  meet  at  the  last !     You  the  saint,  I  the  time-proved  sin 
ner  ; 

You  the  young,  I  the  old  ;  I  the  world-worn,  you  the  beginner ; 
At  the  end  of  the  season  here,  with  a  glass  of  wine 
To  discuss  the  salvation  and  —  well  —  the  mine  and  thine 
Of  all  the  souls  .we  have  met  this  year,  and  dealt  with, 
Of  those  you  have  tried  to  make  feel,  and  those  I've  felt  with  : 
Though,  after  all,  dear  Saint,  had  we  met  in  heaven 
Before  you  got  saintship,  or  I  the  infernal  leaven 
That  works  so  hot  to  kill  the  old  angel  in  me  — 
If  you  had  seen  the  world  then,  as  I  was  able  to  see 
Before  Sergeant-Major  Michael  gave  me  that  fall,  — 
Not  a  right  fall,  mind  you,  taking  the  facts  in  all,  — 
We  might  have  been  on  the  same  side  both.     But  now 
It  is  yours  to  cry  over  lost  souls,  as  it's  mine  to  show  them  how 
They  may  stumble  and  tumble  into  the  infernal  slough. 

So  here  we  are.     Now  tell  me — your  honour  true 

What  do  you  think  of  our  season  ?     Which  wins  ?     I  ?     You  ? 

Ha,  ha,  ha  !     Sweet  friend,  you  can  hardly  doubt 

The  result  of  this  two  months'  hard-fought  wrestling  bout. 

I  have  won.     You  have  lost  the  game.     I  drive  a  trade 

Which  I  invented  —  perhaps  —  but  you  have  made. 

Without  your  heaven,  friend  Saint,  what  would  be  my  hell  ? 

Without  your  goodness,  could  I  hope  to  do  well 

With  the  poor  little  peddler's  pack  of  original  sin 

They  handed  me  down,  when  they  turned  me  out  to  begin 

My  devil's  trade  with  souls.     But  now  I  ask 

Why  for  eternal  penance  they  gave  me  so  light  a  task  ? 

You  have  not  condescended  from  heaven  to  taste  our  carnival 

feast, 

But  if  you  had  tasted  it,  you  would  admit  at  least 
That  the  meats  were  passably  sweet,  and  might  allure 
The  nicest  of  angels,  whose  tastes  are  wholly  pure. 
Old  friend  —  I  hate  you  !     I  hate  your  saintly  face, 
Your  holy  eyes,  your  vague  celestial  grace  ! 
You  are  too  cold  for  me,  whose  soul  must  smelt 
In  fires  whose  fury  you  have  never  felt. 
But  come,  unbend  a  little.     Let  us  chatter 
Of  what  we  like  best,  of  what  our  pride  may  flatter,  — 
Salvation  and  damnation  —  there's  the  theme  — 
Your  trade  and  mine  —  what  I  am,  and  what  you  seem. 
Come,  count  the  souls  we  have  played  for,  you  and  I, 
The  broken  hearts  you  have  lost  on  a  careless  jog  of  the  die, 
Hearts  that  were  broken  in  ire,  by  one  short,  sharp  fault  of  the 
head, 


PIETBO   GHISLERI.  45 

Souls  lifted  on  pinions  of  fire,  to  sink  on  wings  of  lead. 

We  have  gambled,  and  I  have  won,  while  you  have  steadily  lost, 

I  laughing,  you  weeping  your  senseless  saintly  tears  each  time  you 

tossed. 

So  now  —  give  it  up  !     Dry  your  eyes  ;  your  heaven's  a  dream  ! 
Sell  your  saintship  for  what  it  is  worth,  and  come  over  —  the 

Devil's  supreme  ! 

Make  Judas  Iscariot  envy  the  sweets  of  our  sin  — 
Poor  Judas,  who  ended  himself  where  I  could  have  wished  to 

begin  ! 

A  chosen  complexion  —  hell's  fruit  would  not  have  been  wasted 
Had  he  lived  to  eat  his  fill  at  the  feast  he  barely  tasted. 
Ah,  my  friend,  you  are  horribly  good  !     Oh  !  I  know  you  of  old  ; 
I  know  all  your  virtues,  your  graces,  your  beauties  ;  I  know  they 

are  cold  ! 

But  I  know  that  far  down  in  the  depths  of  your  crystalline  soul 
There's  a  spot  the  archangel  physician  might  not  pronounce  whole. 
There's  a  hell  in  your  heaven  ;  there's  a  heaven  in  my  hell.    There 

we  meet. 

What's  perdition  to  you  is  salvation  to  me.    Ah,  the  delicate  sweet 
Of  mad  meetings,  of  broken  confessions,  of  nights  unblest ! 
Oh,  the  shadowy  horror  of  hate  that  haunts  love's  steps  without 

rest, 

The  desire  to  be  dead  —  to  see  dead  both  the  beings  one  hates, 
One's  self  and  the  other,  twin  victims  of  opposite  fates  ! 
How  I  hate  you  !     You  thing  beyond  Satan's  supremest  tempta 
tion, 

You  creature  of  light  for  whom  God  has  ordained  no  damnation, 
You  escape  me,  the  being  whose  searing  hand  lovingly  lingers 
On  the  neck  of  each  sinner  to  brand  him  with  five  red-hot  fingers  ! 
You  escape  me  —  you  dare  scoff  at  me  —  and  I,  poor  old  preten 
der, 

Must  sue  for  your  beautiful  soul  with  temptation  more  tender 
Than  a  man  can  find  for  a  woman,  when  night  in  her  moonlit  glory 
Silvers  a  word  to  a  poem,  makes  a  poem  of  a  commonplace  story  ! 
So  I  sue  here  at  your  feet  for  your  soul  and  the  gold  of  your  heart, 
To  break  my  own  if  I  lose  you  —  Lose  you  ?     No  —  do  not  start. 
You  angel  —  you  bitter-sweet  creature  of  heaven,  I  love  you  and 

hate  you ! 
For  I  know  what  you  are,  and  I  know  that  my  sin  cannot  mate 

you. 

I  know  you  are  better  than  I  —  by  the  blessing  of  God  !  — 
And  I  hate  what  is  better  than  I  by  the  blessing  of  God  ! 
What  right  has  the  Being  Magnificent,  reigning  supreme, 
To  wield  the  huge  might  that  is  his,  in  a  measure  extreme  ? 


46  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

What  right  has  God  got  of  his  strength  to  make  you  all  good, 
And  me  bad  from  the  first  and  weighed  down  in  my  sin's  leaden 

hood? 

What  right  have  you  to  be  pure,  my  angel,  when  I  am  foul  ? 
What  right  have  you  to  the  light,  while  I,  like  an  owl, 
Must  blink  in  hell's  darkness  and  count  my  sins  by  the  bead  — 
While  you  can  get  all  you  pray  for,  the  wine  and  the  mead 
Of  a  heavenly  blessing,  showered  upon  you  straight  — 
Because  you  chance  to  stand  on  the  consecrate  side  of  the  gate? 
Ah!  Give  me  a  little  nature,  give  me  a  human  truth! 
Give  me  a  heart  that  feels  —  and  f allss  as  a  heart  should  —  without 

ruth! 

Give  me  a  woman  who  loves  and  a  man  who  loves  again, 
Give  me  the  instant's  joy  that  ends  in  an  age  of  pain, 
Give  me  the  one  dear  touch  that  I  love  —  and  that  you  fear  — 
And  I  will  give  my  empire  for  the  Kingdom  you  hold  dear! 
I  will  cease  from  tempting  and  torturing,  I  will  let  the  poor  sinner 

go, 

I  will  turn  my  blind  eyes  heavenward  and  forget  this  world  below, 
I  will  change  from  lying  to  truth,  and  be  forever  true  — 
If  you  will  only  love  me  —  and  give  the  Devil  his  due! " 

It  had  been  previously  arranged  that  at  the  last  words 
the  nun  should  thrust  back  his  Satanic  majesty  and  take 
refuge  in  the  church.  But  it  turned  out  otherwise.  As 
he  drew  near  the  conclusion,  Ghisleri  crept  stealthily  up 
to  the  Contessa's  side,  and  threw  all  the  persuasion  he 
possessed  into  his  voice.  But  it  was  most  probably  the 
Contessa's  love  of  surprising  the  world  which  led  her  to 
do  the  contrary  of  what  was  expected.  At  the  last  line 
of  his  speech,  she  made  one  wild  gesture  of  despair,  and 
threw  herself  backward  upon  Ghisleri' s  ready  arm.  For 
one  moment  he  looked  down  into  her  white  upturned  face, 
and  his  own  grew  pale  as  his  gleaming  eyes  met  hers. 
With  characteristic  presence  of  mind,  San  Giacinto,  the 
monk,  bent  his  head,  and  stalked  away  in  holy  horror  as 
the  curtain  fell. 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  47 


CHAPTER  IV. 

As  the  curtain  went  down,  a  burst  of  applause  rang 
through  the  room.  The  poetry,  if  it  could  be  called 
poetry,  had  assuredly  not  been  of  a  high  order,  and  as 
for  the  sentiments  it  expressed,  a  good  number  of  the 
audience  were  more  than  usually  shocked.  But  the 
whole  thing  had  been  effective,  unexpected,  and  striking, 
especially  the  ending,  over  which  the  world  smacked  its 
lips. 

"  I  do  not  like  it  at  all, "  said  Laura  Carlyon  to  Arden, 
as  they  left  the  seats  where  they  had  sat  together  through 
the  little  performance. 

"They  looked  very  well,"  he  answered  thoughtfully. 
"As  for  what  he  said,  it  was  Ghisleri.  That  is  the 
man's  character.  He  will  talk  in  that  way  while  he  does 
not  believe  a  word  he  says,  or  only  one  out  of  ten." 

"Then  I  do  not  like  his  character,  nor  him,"  returned 
the  young  lady,  frankly.  "  But  I  should  not  say  it  to  you, 
dear,  because  he  is  your  best  friend.  He  shows  you  all 
the  good  there  is  in  him,  I  suppose,  and  he  shows  us  all 
the  bad." 

"No  one  ever  said  a  truer  thing  of  him,"  said  Arden, 
limping  along  by  her  side.  "But  I  admire  the  man's 
careless  strength  in  what  he  does." 

"It  is  easy  to  use  strong  language,"  replied  Laura, 
quietly.  "It  is  quite  another  thing  to  be  strong.  I 
believe  he  is  weak,  morally  speaking.  But  then,  how 
should  I  know?  One  only  guesses  at  such,  things,  after 
all." 

"  Yes,  it  is  all  guess-work.  But  I  think  I  understand 
him  better  to-night  than  before." 

A  moment  later  the  sound  of  dance  music  came  from 
the  most  distant  and  the  largest  of  the  rooms.  Ghisleri 
and  the  Contessa  dell'  Armi  were  already  there.  She 
was  so  slight  of  figure,  that  she  draped  her  nun's  dress 


48  PIETKO    GHISLERI. 

over  her  gown,  and  had  only  to  drop  it  to  be  herself  again. 
They  took  a  first  turn  together,  and  Ghisleri  talked  softly 
all  the  time  as  he  danced. 

"  Shockingly  delightful  —  the  whole  thing !  "  exclaimed 
Donna  Adele,  watching  them.  " How  well  they  acted  it! 
They  must  have  rehearsed  very  often." 

"  Quite  often  enough,  I  have  no  doubt, "  said  the  Mar- 
chesa  di  San  Giacinto,  with  a  laugh. 

An  hour  or  two  passed  away  and  Laura  Carlyon  found 
herself  walking  about  with  Ghisleri  after  dancing  with 
him.  He  was  a  very  magnificent  personage  in  his  scarlet, 
black  and  gold  costume,  and  Laura  herself  looked  far 
more  saintly  in  her  evening  gown  than  the  Contessa  dell' 
Armi  had  looked  in  the  dress  of  a  nun.  The  two  made  a 
fine  contrast,  and  some  one  said  so,  unfortunately  within 
hearing  of  both  Adele  Savelli  and  Maddalena  dell' 
Armi.  The  latter  turned  her  cold  face  quickly  and 
looked  at  Laura  and  Ghisleri,  but  her  expression  did 
not  change. 

"  What  a  very  uncertain  person  that  dear  Ghisleri  is !  " 
observed  Donna  Adele  to  Pietrasanta,  as  she  noticed  the 
Contessa's  movement.  She  spoke  just  so  loud  that  the 
latter  could  hear  her,  then  turned  away  with  her  compan 
ion  and  walked  in  the  opposite  direction. 

Meanwhile  Ghisleri  and  Laura  were  together.  The 
young  girl  felt  an  odd  sensation  as  her  hand  lay  on  his 
arm,  as  though  she  were  doing  something  wrong.  She 
did  not  understand  his  life,  nor  him,  being  far  too  young 
and  innocent  of  life's  darker  thoughts  and  deeds.  She 
had  said  that  she  disliked  him,  because  that  seemed  best 
to  express  what  she  felt  —  a  certain  vague  wish  not  to 
be  too  near  him,  a  certain  timidity  when  he  was  within 
hearing  which  she  did  not  feel  at  other  times. 

"  You  did  not  mean  any  of  those  things  you  said,  did 
you,  Signor  Ghisleri?  "  she  asked,  scarcely  knowing  why 
she  put  the  question. 

"  I  meant  them  all,  and  much  more  of  the  same  kind, " 
answered  Pietro,  with  a  hard  laugh. 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  49 

"I  am  sorry  —  I  would  rather  not  believe  it." 

"Why?" 

"Because  it  is  not  right  to  think  such  things,  nor  even 
to  say  them  in  a  play." 

Ghisleri  looked  at  her  in  some  surprise.  Laura  felt  a 
sort  of  impulse  of  conscience  to  say  what  she  thought. 

"  Ah !  you  are  horribly  good !  "  laughed  Ghisleri,  quot 
ing  his  own  verse. 

Laura  felt  uncomfortable  as  she  met  his  glance.  He 
really  looked  very  Satanic  just  then,  as  his  eyebrows  went 
up  and  the  deep  lines  deepened  between  his  eyes  and  on 
his  forehead. 

"  Either  one  believes  or  one  does  not, "  she  said.  "  If 
one  does  —  "  She  hesitated. 

"  If  one  does,  does  it  follow  that  because  God  is  good 
to  you,  He  has  been  good  to  me  also,  Miss  Carlyon?" 

His  expression  changed,  and  his  voice  was  grave  and 
almost  sad.  Laura  sighed  almost  inaudibly,  but  said 
nothing. 

"Will  you  have  anything?"  he  asked  indifferently, 
after  the  short  pause.  "A  cup  of  tea? " 

"Thanks,  no.     I  think  I  will  go  to  my  mother." 

Ghisleri  took  her  to  the  Princess's  side  and  left  her. 

"  You  seemed  to  be  having  a  very  interesting  conver 
sation  with  Miss  Carlyon  just  now,"  said  the  Contessa 
dell'  Armi  as  he  sat  down  beside  her  a  quarter  of  *an  hour 
later.  "What  were  you  talking  about?" 

"Sin,"  answered  Ghisleri,  laconically. 

"With  a  young  girl!  "  exclaimed  the  Contessa.  "But 
then  — English  — " 

"  You  need  not  raise  your  eyebrows,  nor  talk  in  that 
tone,  my  dear  lady,"  replied  Ghisleri.  "Miss  Carlyon 
is  quite  beyond  sarcasms  of  that  sort.  Since  you  are 
curious,  she  was  telling  me  that  it  was  sinful  to  say  the 
things  you  were  good  enough  to  listen  to  in  the  tableau, 
even  in  a  play." 

"Ah?  And  you  will  be  persuaded,  I  dare  say.  What 
beautiful  eyes  she  has.  It  is  a  pity  she  is  so  clumsy  and 


50  PIETBO   GHISLERI. 

heavily  made.  Eeally,  has  she  got  you  to  promise  that 
you  will  never  say  any  of  those  things  again  —  after  the 
way  I  ended  the  piece  for  you?" 

"No.  I  have  not  promised  to  be  good  yet.  As  for 
your  ending  of  the  performance,  I  confess  I  was  sur 
prised." 

"You  did  not  show  it." 

"  It  would  hardly  have  been  in  keeping  with  my  part, 
would  it?  But  I  can  show  you  that  I  am  grateful  at 
least." 

"  For  what?  "  asked  the  Contessa,  raising  her  eyebrows 
again.  "Do  you  think  I  meant  anything  by  it?" 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  Ghisleri,  with  the  utmost 
calmness.  "  I  suppose  your  instinct  told  you  that  it  would 
be  more  novel  and  effective  if  the  Saint  yielded  than  if 
she  played  the  old-fashioned  scene  of  crushing  the  devil 
under  her  foot." 

"Would  you  have  let  yourself  be  crushed?" 

"By  you  —  yes."  Ghisleri  spoke  slowly  and  looked 
steadily  into  her  eyes. 

The  Contessa' s  face  softened  a  little,  and  she  paused 
before  she  answered  him. 

"  I  wish  I  knew  —  I  wish  I  were  sure  whether  I  really 
have  any  influence  over  you,"  she  said  softly,  and  then 
sighed  and  looked  away. 

It  was*  very  late  when  the  party  broke  up,  though  all 
had  professed  the  most  positive  intention  of  going  home 
when  the  clock  struck  twelve.  The  Princess  of  Gerano 
offered  Arden  a  seat  in  her  carriage,  and  Pietro  Ghisleri 
went  away  alone.  As  he  passed  through  the  deserted 
dining-room,  and  through  the  hall  where  he  had  sat  so 
long  with  the  Contessa,  he  could  not  help  glancing  at  the 
corner  where  they  had  talked,  and  he  thought  involun 
tarily  of  the  prologue  to  the  tableau.  His  face  was  set 
rather  sternly,  but  he  smiled,  too,  as  he  went  by. 

"It  is  not  my  last  Carnival  yet,"  he  said  to  himself, 
as  he  drew  on  a  great  driving-coat  which  covered  his  cos 
tume  completely.  Then  he  went  out. 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  51 

It  is  very  hard  to  say  whether  he  was  a  sentimental 
man  or  not.  Men  who  write  second-rate  verses  when 
they  are  alone,  generally  are;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
those  who  knew  him  would  not  have  allowed  that  he 
possessed  a  grain  of  what  is  commonly  called  sentimen 
tality.  The  word  probably  means  a  sort  of  vague  desire 
to  experience  rather  fictitious  emotions,  with  the  inten 
tion  of  believing  oneself  to  be  passionate  by  nature,  and 
in  that  sense  the  weakness  could  not  justly  be  attributed 
to  Ghisleri.  But  on  this  particular  night  he  did  a  thing 
which  many  people  would  undoubtedly  have  called  senti 
mental.  He  turned  aside  from  the  highway  when  he  left 
the  great  palace  in  which  Gouache  lived,  and  he  allowed 
himself  to  wander  aimlessly  on  through  the  older  part  of 
the  city,  until  he  stopped  opposite  to  the  door  of  a  church 
which  stood  in  a  broad  street  near  the  end  of  the  last  by 
way  he  had  traversed.  The  night  was  dark  and  gloomy 
and  the  stillness  was  only  broken  now  and  then  by  a  dis 
tant  snatch  of  song,  a  burst  of  laughter,  or  the  careless 
twang  of  a  guitar,  just  as  Ghisleri  had  described  it. 
Indeed  it  was  by  no  means  the  first  time  that  he  had 
walked  home  in  the  small  hours  of  Ash  Wednesday 
morning, after  a  night  of  gaiety  and  emotion. 

It  chanced  that  the  church  upon  which  he  had  acciden 
tally  come  was  the  one  known  as  the  Church  of  Prayer 
and  Death.  It  stands  in  the  Via  Giulia,  behind  the 
Palazzo  Farnese.  He  realised  the  fact  at  once,  and  it 
seemed  like  a  bad  omen.  He  stood  still  a  long  time, 
looking  at  the  gloomy  door  with  steady  eyes. 

"Just  such  a  place  as  this,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone. 
"Just  such  a  church  as  that,  just  such  a  man  as  I  am. 
Is  this  the  comedy  and  was  this  evening  the  reality  ?  Or 
is  it  the  other  way?  " 

He  called  up  before  his  eyes  the  scene  in  which  he  had 
acted,  and  his  imagination  obeyed  him  readily  enough. 
He  could  fancy  how  the  monk  and  the  nun  would  look, 
and  the  train  of  revellers,  and  their  movements  and  ges 
tures.  But  the  nun's  face  was  not  that  of  the  Contessa. 
Another  shone  out  vividly  in  its  place. 


52  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

"Just  God!"  ejaculated  the  lonely  man.     "Am  I  so 
bad  as  that?     Not  to  care  after  so  much?  " 

He  turned  upon  his  heel  as  though  to  escape  the  vision, 
and  walked  quickly  away,  hating  himself.     But  he  was 

mistaken.      He  cared  — as  he  expressed  it far  more 

than  he  dreamed  of,  more  deeply,  perhaps,  in  his  own 
self-contradictory,  irregular  fashion  than  the  woman  of 
whom  he  was  thinking. 

People  talked  for  some  time  of  the  Shrove  Tuesday 
feast  at  Gouache's   studio.     Then  they  fell  to  talking 
about  other  things.     Lent  passed  in  the  usual  way,  and 
there  was  not  much  change  in  the  lives  of  the  persons 
most  concerned  in  this  history.     Ghisleri  saw  much  less 
of  Arden  than  formerly,    of  course,    as  the  latter  was 
wholly  absorbed  by  his  passion  for  his  future  wife.     As 
for  the  world,  it  was  as  much  occupied  with  dinner  par 
ties,  musical  evenings,  and  private  theatricals  as  it  had 
formerly  been  with  dancing.     The  time  sped  quickly. 
The  past  season  had  left  behind  it  an  enormous  Corpus 
Scandalorum  Romanorum  which  made  conversation  both 
easy  and  delightful.     How  many  of  the  unpleasant  stories 
concerning  Lord  Herbert  Arden,  Laura  Carlyon,  Pietro 
Ghisleri,  and  Maddalena  dell'  Armi  could  have  been  dis 
tinctly  traced  to  Adele  Savelli,  it  is  not  easy  to  say.     As 
a  matter  of  fact,  very  few  persons  excepting  Ghisleri 
himself  took  any  trouble  to  trace  them  at  all.     To  the 
average  worldly  taste  it  is  as  unpleasant  to  follow  up  the 
origin  of  a  delightfully  savoury  lie,  as  it  is  to  think, 
while  eating,  of  the  true  history  of  a  beefsteak,  from  the 
meadow  to  the  table  by  way  of  the  slaughter-house  and 
the  cook's  fingers. 

Holy  week  came,  and  the  muffled  bells  and  the  silence 
in  houses  at  other  times  full  and  noisy,  and  the  general 
air  of  depression  which  results,  most  probably,  from  a 
certain  amount  of  genuine  repentance  and  devotion  which 
is  felt  in  a  place  where  by  no  means  all  are  bad  at  heart, 
and  many  are  sincerely  good.  The  gay  set  felt  uncom 
fortable,  and  a  certain  number  experienced  for  the  first 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  53 

time  the  most  distinct  aversion  to  confessing  their  mis 
deeds,  as  they  ought  to  do  at  least  once  a  year.  As  far 
as  they  were  concerned,  Ghisleri's  verses  expressed  more 
truth  than  they  had  expected  to  find  in  them.  Ghisleri 
himself  was  rarely  troubled  by  any  return  of  the  qualm 
which  had  seized  him  before  the  door  of  the  Church  of 
Prayer  and  Death,  and  never  again  in  the  same  degree. 
If  he  did  not  go  on  his  way  rejoicing,  he  at  all  events  pro 
ceeded  without  remorse,  and  was  wicked  enough  and  sel 
fish  enough  to  congratulate  himself  upon  the  fact. 

Arden  and  Laura  were  perfectly  happy.  They,  at 
least,  had  little  cause  to  reproach  themselves  with  any 
evil  done  in  the  world  since  they  had  met,  and  Arden  had 
assuredly  better  reason  for  congratulating  himself.  It 
would  indeed  have  been  hard  to  find  a  happier  man  than 
he,  and  his  happiness  was  perfectly  legitimate  and  well 
founded.  Whether  it  would  prove  durable  was  another 
matter,  not  so  easy  of  decision.  But  the  facts  of  the 
present  were  strong  enough  to  crush  all  apprehension  for 
the  future.  It  was  not  strange  that  it  should  be  so. 

He  could  not  be  said  to  have  led  a  lonely  life.  His 
family  were  deeply  attached  to  him,  and  from  earliest 
boyhood  everything  had  been  done  to  alleviate  the  moral 
suffering  inevitable  in  his  case,  and  to  make  his  material 
existence  as  bearable  as  possible,  in  spite  of  his  terrible 
infirmities.  But  for  the  unvarying  sympathy  of  many 
loving  hearts,  and  the  unrelaxing  care  of  those  who  were 
sincerely  devoted  to  him,  Arden  could  hardly  have  hoped 
to  attain  to  manhood  at  all,  much  less  to  the  healthy  moral 
growth  which  made  him  very  unlike  most  men  in  his  con 
dition,  or  the  comparative  health  of  body  whereby  he  was 
able  to  enjoy  without  danger  much  of  what  came  in  his 
way.  He  was  in  reality  a  much  more  social  and  sociable 
man  than  his  friend  Ghisleri,  though  he  did  not  possess 
the  same  elements  of  success  in  society.  He  was,  indeed, 
sensitive,  as  has  been  said,  in  spite  of  his  denial  of  the 
fact,  but  he  was  not  bitter  about  his  great  misfortune. 
Hitherto  only  one  very  painful  thought  had  been  con- 


54  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

nected  with  his  deformity,  beyond  the  constant  sense  of 
physical  inferiority  to  other  men.  He  had  felt,  and  not 
without  reason,  that  he  must  renounce  the  love  of  woman 
and  the  hope  of  wedded  happiness,  as  being  utterly  beyond 
the  bounds  of  all  human  possibility.  And  now,  as  though 
Heaven  meant  to  compensate  him  to  the  full  for  the 
suffering  inflicted  and  patiently  borne,  he  had  won,  almost 
without  an  effort,  the  devoted  love  of  the  first  woman  for 
whom  he  had  seriously  cared.  It  was  almost  too  good. 

Love  had  taken  him,  and  had  clothed  him.  in  a  new 
humanity,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  straightening  the  feeble 
limbs,  strengthening  the  poor  ill-matched  shoulders, 
broadening  and  deepening  the  sunken  chest  that  never 
held  breath  enough  before  wherewith  to  speak  out  full 
words  of  passionate  happiness.  Love  had  dawned  upon 
the  dusk  of  his  dark  morning  as  the  dawn  of  day  upon  a 
leaden  sea,  scattering  unearthly  blossoms  in  the  path,  of 
the  royal  sun,  breathing  the  sweet  breeze  of  living  joy 
upon  the  flat  waters  of  unprofitable  discontent. 

To  those  who  watch  the  changing  world  with  its  mani 
fold  scenes  and  its  innumerable  actors,  whose  merest  farce 
is  ever  and  only  the  prologue  to  the  tragedy  which  awaits 
all,  there  is  nothing  more  wonderful,  nothing  more  beau 
tiful,  nothing  more  touching  —  perhaps  few  things  more 
sacred  —  than  the  awakening  of  a  noble  heart  at  love's 
first  magic  touch.  The  greater  miracle  of  spring  is  done 
before  our  eyes  each  year,  the  sun  shines  and  the  grass 
grows,  it  rains  and  all  things  are  refreshed,  and  the  dead 
seed's  heart  breaks  with  the  joy  of  coming  life,  bursts  and 
shoots  up  to  meet  the  warmth  of  the  sunshine  and  be  kissed 
by  the  west  wind.  But  we  do  not  see,  or  seeing,  care  for 
none  of  these  things  in  the  same  measure  in  which  we 
care  for  ourselves  —  and  perhaps  for  others.  We  turn 
from  the  budding  flower  wearily  enough  at  last,  and  we 
own  that  though  it  speak  to  us  and  touch  us,  its  language 
is  all  but  strange  and  its  meaning  wholly  a  mystery. 
Nature  tells  us  little  except  by  association  with  hearts 
that  have  beaten  for  ours,  and  then  sometimes  she  tells 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  55 

us  all.  But  the  heart  itself  is  the  thing,  the  reality,  the 
seat  of  all  our  thoughts  and  the  stay  of  all  our  being. 
Selfishly  we  see  what  it  does  in  ourselves,  and  in  others 
we  may  see  it  and  watch  it  without  thought  of  self.  It 
is  asleep  to-day,  lethargic,  heavy,  dull,  scarce  moving  in 
the  breast  that  holds  it.  To-morrow  it  is  awake,  leaping, 
breaking,  splendidly  alive,  the  very  source  of  action,  the 
leader  in  life's  fight,  the  conqueror  of  the  whole  opposing 
world,  bursting  to-day  the  chains  of  which  only  yesterday 
it  could  not  lift  a  link,  overthrowing  now,  with  a  touch, 
the  barriers  which  once  seemed  so  impenetrable  and  so 
strong,  scorning  the  deathlike  inaction  of  the  past,  toss 
ing  the  mountains  of  impossibility  before  it  as  a  child 
tosses  pebbles  by  the  sea.  The  miracle  is  done,  and  love 
has  done  it,  as  only  love  really  can. 

But  it  must  be  the  right  sort  of  love  and  the  heart  it 
touches  must  be  neither  common  nor  unclean  in  the  broad, 
true  sense  —  such  a  heart,  say,  as  Herbert  Arden's,  and 
such  love  as  he  felt  for  Laura,  then  and  afterwards. 

"  My  life  began  on  the  evening  when  I  first  met  you, 
dear, "  he  said,  as  they  sat  by  the  open  window  on  Easter 
Day,  looking  down  at  the  flowers  on  the  terrace  behind 
the  Palazzo  Braccio. 

"You  cannot  make  me  believe  that  you  loved  me  at 
first  sight !  "  Laura  laughed  happily. 

"  Why  not?  "  he  asked  gravely.  "  No  woman  ever  spoke 
to  me  as  you  did  then,  and  I  felt  it.  Is  it  strange?  But 
it  hurt  me,  too,  at  first,  and  I  used  to  suffer  during  that 
first  month." 

"  Let  that  be  the  first  and  the  last  pain  you  ever  have 
by  me, "  answered  the  young  girl.  "  I  know  you  suffered, 
though  I  cannot  even  now  tell  why.  Can  you?" 

"Easily  enough,"  said  Arden,  resting  his  chin  upon 
his  folded  hands  as  they  lay  upon  the  white  marble  sill 
of  the  window,  scarcely  less  white  than  they.  The  atti 
tude  was  habitual  to  him  when  he  was  in  that  place.  He 
could  not  rest  his  elbow  on  the  slab  as  Laura  could,  for 
he  was  too  short  as  he  sat  in  his  chair. 


56  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

" Easily?  "  she  asked.     " Then  tell  me." 

"Very  easily.  You  can  understand  it  too.  When  I 
knew  that  I  loved  you,  I  knew  —  I  believed,  at  least,  that 
another  suffering  had  been  found  for  me,  as  though  I  had 
not  enough  already.  Of  course,  I  was  hopeless.  How 
could  I  tell,  how  could  any  one  guess  that  you  —  you  of 
all  women  —  with  your  beauty,  your  youth,  your  splendid 
woman's  heart  —  could  ever  care  for  me?  Oh,  my  dar 
ling  —  dear,  dearest  —  is  there  no  other  word?  If  I  could 
only  tell  you  half!" 

"  If  you  could  tell  me  all,  you  would  only  have  told 
half,  love,"  said  Laura.  "There  is  mine  to  tell,  too  — 
and  it  is  not  a  little."  She  bent  down  to  him  and  softly 
kissed  the  beautiful  pale  forehead. 

The  bright  flush  came  to  Arden's  cheek  and  died  away 
again  in  the  happy  silence  that  followed.  But  he  raised 
his  head,  and  his  two  hands  took  one  of  hers  and  gently 
covered  it. 

"You  must  always  be  the  same  to  me,"  he  said,  almost 
under  his  breath.  "  You  have  given  me  this  new  life  — 
do  not  take  it  from  me  again  —  the  old  would  be  impos 
sible  now,  not  to  be  lived." 

"It  need  never  be  lived,  it  never  shall  be,  if  I  live 
myself,"  answered  Laura.  "If  only  I  could  make  you 
sure  of  that,  I  should  be  really  happy.  But  you  do  not 
really  doubt  it,"  Herbert,  do  you?" 

"  No,  dear,  to  doubt  you  would  be  to  doubt  everything 
—  though  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  it  can  all  be  so  good, 
and  last." 

"It  does  not  seem  hard  to  me.  Perhaps  a  woman 
believes  everything  more  easily  than  a  man  does.  She 
needs  to  believe  more,  I  suppose,  and  so  she  finds  it  easy." 

"No  woman  ever  needed  to  believe  as  much  as  I," 
answered  Arden,  thoughtfully.  He  still  held  her  hand, 
and  passed  one  of  his  own  lightly  over  it,  just  pressing 
it  now  and  then,  as  though  to  make  sure  that  it  was  real. 
" Except  yourself,  dear  one,"  he  added  a  moment  later, 
with  a  sharp,  short  breath,  as  though  something  hurt  him. 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  57 

Laura  was  quick  to  understand  him,  and  to  feel  all  that 
he  felt.  She  heard  the  little  sigh  and  looked  into  his  face 
and  saw  the  expression  of  something  like  pain  there. 
She  laid  her  free  hand  upon  his  shoulder  and  gazed  into 
his  soft  brown  eyes. 

"  Herbert  dear,"  she  said,  "  I  know  what  you  are  think 
ing  about.  I  was  put  into  the  world  to  make  you  forget 
those  things,  and,  God  willing,  I  will.  You  shall  forget 
them  as  completely  as  I  do,  or  if  you  remember  them  they 
shall  be  dear  to  you,  in  a  way,  as  they  are  to  me." 

A  wonderful  look  of  loving  gratitude  was  in  his  face, 
and  he  pressed  her  fingers  closely  in  his. 

"  Tell  me  one  thing,  Laura  —  only  this  once  and  I  will 
not  speak  of  it  again.  When  you  touch  me  —  when  you 
lay  your  hand  on  my  shoulder  —  when  you  kiss  my  fore 
head —  tell  me  quite  truly,  dear,  do  you  not  feel  anything 
like  —  like  a  sort  of  horror,  a  kind  of  repulsion,  as  if  you 
were  touching  something  —  well  —  unpleasant  to  touch?  " 

Poor  Arden  really  did  not  know  how  much  he  was  loved. 
Laura's  deep  eyes  opened  wide  for  an  instant,  as  he  spoke, 
then  almost  closed  again,  and  her  lips  quivered.  Then 
suddenly  without  warning  the  bright  tears  welled  up  and 
overflowed.  She  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  and  sobbed 
bitterly. 

"Oh,  Herbert,"  she  cried,  "that  you  should  think  it  of 
me,  when  I  love  you  as  though  my  heart  would  break ! " 

With  a  movement  that  would  have  cost  him  a  painful 
effort  at  any  other  time,  Arden  rose  and  clasped  her  to 
him  and  tried  to  soothe  her,  caressing  her  thick  black  hair, 
and  kissing  her  forehead  tenderly,  with  a  sort  of  passion 
ate  reverence  that  was  his  own,  and  speaking  such  words 
as  came  to  his  lips  in  the  deep  emotion  of  the  moment. 

"Forgive  me,  darling,  how  could  I  hurt  you?  Laura 
—  sweetheart  Laura  —  beloved  —  do  not  cry  —  I  know  it 
now  —  I  shall  never  think  of  it  again.  No,  dear,  no  — 
there,  say  you  have  forgiven  me !  " 

"  Forgiven  you,  dear  —  what  is  there  to  forgive?  "  She 
looked  up  with  streaming  eyes. 


58  PIETKO   GHISLERI. 

"  Everything,  love  —those  tears  of  yours,  first  of  all  —  " 
She  dried  her  eyes  and  made  him  sit  down  again  before 
she  spoke,  looking  out  of  the  window  at  the  flowers. 

"It  is  not  your  fault,"  she  said  at  last.     "I  have  not 
shown  you  how  I  love  yet  —  that  is  all.    But  I  will,  soon. " 
"  You  have  shown  it  already,  dear  —  far  more  than  you 
know." 

The  world  might  have  been  surprised  could  it  have  seen 
the  two  together  —  the  tipsy  cripple,  as  it  called  Arden, 
and  the  girl  who  loved  Francesco  Savelli,  as  it  unhesitat 
ingly  denominated  Laura.     It  would  have  been  a  little 
surprised  at  first,  and  then,  on  mature  reflection,  it  would 
have  said  that  it  was  all  a  comedy,  and  that  both  acted 
it  very  well.     Was  it  not  natural  that  Arden  should  want 
a  pretty  wife  and  that  Laura  should  take  any  husband 
that  presented  himself,  since  she  could  get  no  better? 
And  in  that  case  why  should  not  each  act  a  comedy  to 
gain  the  other's  hand?     The  world  did  that  sort  of  thing 
every  day,  and  what  the  world  did  Arden  and  Laura  could 
very  well  afford  to  do;  and  after  all,  it  was  not  of  the 
slightest  importance,  since  they  were  both  going  away, 
so  why  should  one  talk  about  them?     The  answer  to  that 
last  question  is  so  very  hard  to  find  that  it  may  be  left 
to  those  who  put  it.     Donna  Adele  seemed  satisfied,  and 
that  was  the  principal  consideration  for  the  present. 
"My  poor  sister!  "  she  exclaimed  to  Ghisleri  one  day. 
"Step-sister,"  observed  Pietro,  correcting  her. 
"  Oh,  we  were  always  quite  like  real  sisters,"  answered 
Adele.     "  Of  course,  my  dear  Ghisleri,  I  know  what  a 
splendid  man  Lord  Herbert  is,   in  everything  but  his 
unfortunate  deformity.    Any  one  can  see  that  in  his  face, 
and  besides,  you  would  not  have  chosen  him  for  your 
friend  if  he  were  not  immensely  superior  to  other  men." 
Ghisleri  puffed  at  his  cigarette,  looked  at  her,  laughed, 
and  puffed  again. 

"But  that  one  thing,"  continued  Adele,  "I  cannot 
understand  how  she  can  overlook  it,  can  you?  I  assure 
you  if  my  father  had  told  me  to  marry  Lord  Herbert,  I 


PIETRO   GHISLERI. 


59 


should  have  done  something  quite  desperate.  I  think  I 
should  almost  have  refused.  I  would  almost  rather  have 
had  to  marry  you." 

"Keally?"  Pietro  showed  some  amusement.  JJoyou 
think  you  could  have  loved  me  in  the  end?"  he  inquired 
as  though  he  were  asking  for  information  of  the  most 
commonplace  kind. 

"Loved  you?"  Adele  laughed  rather  unnaturally.  It 
would  have  been  something  definite,  at  all  events,"  she 
added.  "Either  love  or  hate." 

"And  you  do  not  believe  that  your  step-sister  can  ever 
love  or  hate  Arden?  There  is  more  in  him  than  you 
imagine." 

"  I  dare  say,  but  not  of  the  kind  I  should  like.  Besides, 
they  say  that  though  he  never  drinks  quite  too  much,  he 
is  sometimes  very  excited  and  behaves  and  talks  very 

strangely." 

"They  say  that,  do  they?  Who  are  'they '?"  Ghis- 
leri's  eyes  suddenly  grew  hard,  and  his  jaw  seemed  to 
become  extremely  square. 

"  They?  Oh,  many  people,  of  course.  The  world  says 
so.  Do  not  be  so  dreadfully  angry.  What  difference  can 
it  make  to  you?  I  never  said  that  he  drank  too  much." 

"If  you  should  hear  people  talking  about  him  in  that 
way,"  said  Ghisleri,  quietly,  "you  might  say  that  the 
story  is  not  true,  since  there  is  really  no  truth  in  it  at 
all.  Arden  is  almost  like  an  invalid.  He  drinks  a  glass 
of  hock  at  breakfast  and  a  glass  or  two  of  claret  at  din 
ner.  I  rarely  see  him  touch  champagne,  and  he  never 
takes  liqueurs.  As  for  his  being  excited  and  behaving 
strangely,  that  is  a  pure  fabrication.  He  is  the  quietest 
man  I  know." 

"It  is  really  of  no  use  to  be  so  impressive,"  answered 
Adele.  "It  makes  me  uncomfortable." 

"  That  is  almost  as  disagreeable  a  thing  as  to  meet  a 
looking-glass  when  one  comes  home  at  seven  in  the  morn 
ing,"  observed  Pietro.     " Let  us  not  talk  about  it." 
Donna  Adele  had  gone  as  near  as  she  dared  to  saying 


60  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

something  unpleasant  about  Lord  Herbert  Arden,  and 
Ghisleri  had  checked  her  with  a  wholesome  shock.  In 
his  experience  he  had  generally  found  that  his  words  car 
ried  weight  with  them,  for  some  reason  which  he  did  not 
even  attempt  to  explain.  If  the  truth  were  known,  it 
would  appear  that  Adele  was  at  that  time  much  inclined 
to  like  Ghisleri,  and  was  willing  to  sacrifice  even  the 
pleasure  of  saying  a  sharp  thing  rather  than  offend  him. 
The  short  conversation  here  reported  took  place  in  her 
boudoir  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  when  Ghisleri  went 
away  his  place  was  soon  taken  by  the  Marchesa  di  San 
Giacinto  —  a  lady  of  sufficiently  good  heart,  but  of  too 
ready  tongue,  with  coal-black,  sparkling  eyes,  and  a  dark 
complexion  relieved  by  a  bright  and  healthy  colour  — 
rather  a  contrast  to  the  rest  of  the  Montevarchi  tribe. 

"  Pietro  Ghisleri  has  been  here,"  observed  Adele,  in  the 
course  of  conversation. 

"To  meet  Maddalena,  I  suppose,"  laughed  the  Mar 
chesa,  not  meaning  any  harm. 

"  No.  They  did  it  once,  and  I  told  Pietro  that  I  would 
not  have  that  sort  of  thing  in  my  house,"  said  Adele,  with 
dignity. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  had  not  dared  to  say  a  word  to 
Ghisleri  on  the  subject,  but  he  and  the  Contessa  had 
decided  that  Adele's  drawing-room  was  not  a  safe  place 
for  meeting,  and  it  was  quite  true  that  they  had  carefully 
avoided  finding  themselves  there  together  ever  since.  But 
Adele  was  well  aware  that  Flavia  San  Giacinto  and  Ghis 
leri  were  by  no  means  intimate,  and  were  not  likely  to 
exchange  confidences;  and  though  the  Marchesa  was 
ready  enough  at  repeating  harmless  tales  in  the  world, 
she  was  reticent  with  her  husband,  whom  she  really 
loved,  and  whose  good  opinion  she  valued. 

"Was  he  amusing?"  asked  Flavia.  "He  sometimes 
is." 

"He  was  not  to-day,  but  the  conversation  was.  You 
know  how  intimate  he  is  with  Laura's  little  lord?" 

"  Of  course !     What  did  he  say?  " 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  61 

"  And  you  remember  the  story  about  the  champagne  at 
the  Gerano  ball,  when  he  carried  Arden  out  of  the  room 
and  put  him  to  bed?  " 

"Perfectly,"  answered  the  Marchesa,  with  a  smile. 

"  Yes.  Well,  I  pressed  him  very  hard  to-day,  to  find 
out  what  the  little  man's  habits  really  are.  You  see  he 
is  to  be  of  the  family,  and  we  must  really  find  out.  My 
dear,  it  is  quite  dreadful!  He  says  positively  that  Arden 
never  touches  liqueurs,  but  when  I  drove  him  to  it,  he 
had  to  admit  that  he  drinks  all  sorts  of  wines  —  Rhine 
wine,  claret,  burgundy,  champagne  —  everything!  It  is 
no  wonder  that  it  goes  to  his  head,  poor  little  fellow. 
But  I  am  sorry  for  Laura." 

"  After  all, "  said  Flavia,  "  one  cannot  blame  him  much, 
if  he  tries  to  be  a  little  gay.  He  must  suffer  terribly." 

"Oh,  no,  one  cannot  blame  him,"  assented  Adele. 

Flavia  San  G-iacinto  was  somewhat  amused,  knowing, 
as  she  did,  that  Adele  had  herself  originated  the  tale  about 
Lord  Herbert.  And  late  that  evening  the  temptation  to 
repeat  what  she  had  heard  became  too  strong  for  her. 
She  told  it  all  in  the  strictest  confidence  to  her  dearest 
friend,  Donna  Maria  Boccapaduli.  But  Donna  Maria  was 
a  little  absent-minded  at  the  moment,  her  eldest  boy  hav 
ing  got  a  cold  which  threatened  to  turn  into  whooping 
cough,  and  her  husband  having  written  to  her  from  the 
country,  asking  her  to  come  down  the  next  day  and  give 
her  advice  about  some  necessary  repairs  in  the  castle. 

On  the  following  afternoon  —  it  was  still  during  Lent 
—  she  met  the  Contessa  dell'  Armi  on  the  steps  of  a 
church  after  hearing  a  sermon.  The  Contessa  was  very 
pale  and  looked  as  though  she  had  been  crying. 

"  Only  think,  my  dear, "  began  Donna  Maria.  "  It  is 
quite  true  that  Lord  Herbert  drinks.  Adele  knows  all 
about  it." 

"  Does  she?  "  asked  the  Contessa,  indifferently  enough. 
"How  did  she  find  it  out? " 

"  Ghisleri  told  her  ever  so  many  stories  about  it  yester 
day  afternoon  —  in  the  strictest  confidence,  you  know." 


62  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

•'Indeed!  I  did  not  think  that  Signor  Ghisleri  was 
the  sort  of  man  who  gossiped  about  his  friends.  Good 
bye,  dear.  I  shall  see  more  of  you  when  Lent  is  over." 

Thereupon  the  Contessa  got  into  the  carriage  with 
rather  an  odd  expression  on  her  face.  As  she  drove  away 
alone,  she  bit  her  lip,  and  looked  as  though  she  were 
trying  to  keep  back  certain  tears  that  rose  in  her  eyes. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ON  the  Saturday  succeeding  Easter,  Lord  Herbert 
Arden  and  Laura  Carlyon  were  married.  The  ceremony 
was  conducted,  as  they  both  desired,  very  quietly  and 
unostentatiously,  as  was  becoming  for  a  young  couple  who 
must  live  economically.  Few  persons  were  asked  to  be 
present  at  the  wedding  service,  and  among  them  was 
Pietro  Ghisleri.  He  had  seen  English  weddings  before, 
but  he  looked  on  with  some  curiosity  and  with  rather 
mixed  feelings  of  satisfaction  and  regret.  He  thought 
of  his  own  life  as  he  stood  there,  and  for  one  moment  he 
sincerely  wished  that  he  were  only  awaiting  his  turn  to 
be  dealt  with  as  Arden  was,  to  be  taken  by  the  hand, 
joined  to  the  woman  he  loved,  and  turned  out  upon  the 
'world  a  well-behaved,  proper,  married  man.  The  next 
moment  he  smiled  faintly  and  rather  bitterly.  Marriage 
had  not  been  instituted  for  men  like  him,  thought  Ghis 
leri.  If  it  had  been,  it  would  hardly  have  been  so  success 
ful  an  institution  as  it  has  proved  itself.  As  for  the 
young  couple,  he  wished  them  well.  Arden  was  almost 
the  only  man  for  whom  he  felt  any  attachment,  and  he 
had  the  most  sincere  admiration  for  Laura. 

Without  feeling  anything  in  the  least  resembling  affec 
tion  for  the  lovely  English  girl,  he  was  conscious  that  he 
thought  of  her  very  often.  Her  eyes,  which  he  called 
holy,  and  saintly,  and  sweet,  and  dark  in  his  rough  rhymed 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  63 

impressions  of  the  day,  haunted  him  by  night,  like  the 
eyes  of  a  sad  angel  following  him  in  his  unblest  wander 
ings  through  life.  Of  love  for  her,  he  felt  not  the  slight 
est  thrill.  His  pulse  never  quickened  when  she  came, 
nor  was  he  at  all  depressed  by  her  departure.  If  he  had 
cared  for  her  in  the  very  least,  it  must  have  caused  him 
some  little  pain  to  see  her  married  to  another  before  his 
eyes.  Instead,  the  only  passing  regret  he  felt,  was  that  he 
could  not  himself  stand  in  some  such  position  as  Arden, 
but  by  another  woman's  side.  To  that  other  he  gave  all, 
as  he  honestly  believed,  which  he  had  to  give.  It  was 
long,  too,  since  the  very  possibility  of  loving  a  young  girl 
had  crossed  his  mind,  and  since  his  early  youth  there  had 
not  been  anything  approaching  to  the  reality  of  such  a 
love  in  his  life.  And  yet  he  knew  that  he  was  in  some  de 
gree  under  Laura's  influence,  and  in  a  way  in  which  he 
was  assuredly  not  under  that  of  the  Contessa  dell'  Armi. 
The  consciousness  of  this  fact  annoyed  him.  There  was 
a  good  deal  of  a  certain  sort  of  loyalty  in  his  nature,  bad 
as  he  believed  himself  to  be,  and  bad  as  many  honest  and 
good  people  who  read  this -history  will  undoubtedly  say 
that  he  was.  If  such  badness  could  be  justified  or  even 
excused,  it  would  not  be  hard  to  find  some  reasonable  ex 
cuses  for  him,  and  after  all  he  was  probably  not  worse 
than  a  hundred  others  to  be  found  in  the  society  of  every 
great  city.  He  thought  he  was  worse,  sometimes,  as  he 
had  told  Arden,  because  he  himself  also  thought  that  he 
was  more  fully  aware  than  most  men  of  what  he  was  do 
ing  and  of  the  consequences  of  his  deeds.  It  is  most 
likely,  considering  his  character,  that  at  that  time  Laura 
Carlyon  represented  to  him  a  species  of  ideal  such  as  he 
could  admire  with  all  his  heart  at  a  distance,  and  so 
nearly  coinciding  with  his  own  as  to  be  very  often  in  his 
thoughts  in  the  place  of  the  one  he  had  so  long  ago  con 
tracted  for  himself.  All  this  sounds  very  complicated, 
while  the  facts  in  the  case  were  broadly  plain.  He 
appreciated  Laura  in  the  highest  degree,  and  did  not  love 
her  at  all.  He  was  sincerely  glad  that  his  best  if  not 


64  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

his  only  intimate  friend  should  marry  her,  and  when  he 
bid  them  good-bye  he  did  not  feel  the  smallest  twinge  of 
regret  except  as  at  a  temporary  parting  from  two  persons 
whom  he  liked. 

"You  must  come  and  stop  with  us  this  summer,"  said 
Arden,  looking  up  at  him  with  flushed  and  happy  face. 
"  You  know  how  glad  my  brother  always  is  to  see  you. 
Besides,  you  are  an  old  friend  of  my  wife's,  if  any  further 
reasons  are  necessary.  She  wants  you  to  come  too." 

"  Of  course  I  do, "  said  Laura,  promptly,  as  she  held 
out  her  hand. 

Strange  to  say,  she  had  felt  far  less  of  that  unpleasant, 
half -timid,  half -pained  dislike  for  Ghisleri,  since  she  had 
grown  used  to  the  idea  of  being  Herbert  Arden's  wife. 

And  now  that  her  name  was  really  changed,  and  she  was 
forever  bound  to  her  husband,  she  felt  it  not  at  all.  It 
was  strange,  considering  the  circumstances,  that  she 
should  have  the  certainty  that  Arden  could  and  would 
protect  her,  come  what  might.  The  poor  little  shrunken 
frame  certainly  did  not  suggest  the  manly  strength  to 
shield  a  woman  in  danger,  which  every  woman  loves  to 
feel.  The  thin,  white  hand  would  have  been  but  a  bundle 
of  threads  in  Ghisleri' s  strong  grip.  And  yet  Laura 
Arden,  as  she  now  was  to  be  called,  knew  that  she  would 
trust  her  husband  to  take  her  part  and  win  against  a 
stronger  and  a  worse  man  than  Ghisleri,  should  she  ever 
be  in  need ;  and,  what  is  more,  Ghisleri  saw  that  she  did, 
and  his  admiration  rose  still  higher.  There  must  be 
something  magnificent  in  a  woman  who  could  so  wholly 
forget  such  outward  frailness  and  deformity  in  the  man 
she  loved,  as  to  forget  also  that  sometimes  in  life  a  man's 
hand  may  need  that  same  common  brute  strength,  just  to 
match  it  against  another's,  for  a  woman's  dear  sake. 
Such  love  as  that,  thought  Pietro,  must  be  supremely 
noble,  unselfish,  and  lasting.  Being  founded  upon  no  out 
ward  illusion,  there  was  no  reason  why  anything  should 
undermine  it,  nor  why  the  foundation  itself  should  ever 
crumble  away. 


PIETEO   GHISLEEI.  65 

That  was  his  view,  and,  on  the  whole,  it  was  not  an 
unjust  one.  For  the  facts  were  true.  If,  when  they  drove 
away  to  the  station,  Herbert  Arden  had  suddenly,  by 
magic,  been  clothed  in  the  colossal  frame  and  iron  strength 
of  San  G-iacinto  himself,  Laura  would  have  felt  no  safer 
nor  more  perfectly  shielded  and  guarded  from  earthly 
harm  than  she  really  did  while  she  was  pulling  up  the 
window  lest  her  husband  should  catch  cold  even  in  the 
mild  April  air,  and  lovingly  arranging  the  heavy  silk 
scarf  about  his  neck. 

They  went  southward  by  common  consent,  as  indeed 
they  did  everything.  They  would  go  to  England  later  in 
the  year,  in  June  perhaps,  when  it  was  warmer.  In  the 
meanwhile  Arden's  brother  had  offered  them  his  yacht, 
and  they  could  cruise  for  a  month  in  the  Mediterranean, 
almost  choosing  their  own  climate  day  by  day,  and  wholly 
independent  of  all  the  manifold  annoyances,  inconven 
iences,  and  positive  sufferings  which  beset  the  path  of 
young  married  couples  who  have  not  yachts  at  their  dis 
posal.  What  both  most  desired  was  to  be  alone  together, 
to  have  enough  of  each  other  at  last,  free  from  the  tire 
some  daily  little  crowd  of  social  spectators,  and  this  they 
could  nowhere  accomplish  so  pleasantly  and  completely 
as  in  the  luxuriously  fitted  vessel  lent  them  by  Arden' s 
brother.  The  latter  had  not  seen  fit  to  come  to  the  wed 
ding,  but  Arden  had  in  no  way  taken  it  amiss,  though  the 
world  had  found  plenty  to  say  on  the  subject,  and  not  by 
any  means  to  Arden's  credit.  The  said  brother  was  a 
decidedly  eccentric  person  of  enormous  wealth,  who  hated 
anything  at  all  resembling  publicity  or  public  ceremony, 
and  was,  moreover,  a  very  bad  correspondent. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  of  your  engagement,  my  dear 
old  brother,"  he  wrote.  "  They  say  Miss  Carlyon  is  good 
and  beautiful.  I  have  no  doubt  she  is,  though  I  do  not 
at  this  moment  recollect  knowing  any  woman  who  was 
both.  I  have  sent  the  yacht  to  Naples  for  you,  if  you 
care  for  a  cruise.  Keep  her  as  long  as  you  like,  and  tele 
graph  if  you  want  her  sent  anywhere  else  —  Nice,  for 


66  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

instance,  or  Venice.  Ask  your  wife  to  wear  the  pearls  by 
way  of  making  acquaintance  at  second  hand.  They  are 
what  I  could  find.  I  send  a  man  with  them,  as  they  might 
get  lost.  Now  good-bye,  dear  boy,  enjoy  yourself , and 
come  to  us  as  soon  as  you  can.  Yours  ever,  HARRY. 

"  P.  S.  As  it  is  often  such  a  bore  to  draw  money  in  those 
funny  Italian  towns,  I  enclose  a  few  circular  notes  which 
may  be  useful.  Bess  and  the  children  are  all  well  and 
send  love  and  lots  of  congratulations.  I  suppose  you 
have  written  to  Uncle  Herbert." 

The  few  circular  notes  thus  casually  alluded  to 
amounted  to  two  thousand  pounds,  and  it  would  be  unsafe 
to  speculate  on  the  value  of  the  pearls  which  the  mes 
senger  brought  on  his  person  and  delivered  safely  into 
Arden's  hands.  "Harry"  was  not  over-lavish,  except 
where  his  brother  was  concerned,  and  always  inwardly 
regretted  that  Herbert  needed  so  little  and  insisted  upon 
living  within  his  modest  income.  To  "give  things  to 
Herbert "  was  one  of  the  few  real  pleasures  he  extracted 
from  his  great  fortune.  On  the  present  occasion  Arden 
was  glad  to  accept  the  money,  for  he  had  the  very  most 
vague  notions  of  the  expense  of  married  life,  and  had 
anticipated  real  economy  during  his  honeymoon,  which, 
of  course,  could  not  be  quite  as  pleasant  to  Laura  as  hav 
ing  plenty  of  money  to  spend.  That  last  little  difficulty 
being  removed,  he  felt  that  he  could  give  himself  up  light- 
hearted  to  the  idyl  of  perfect  love  which  Laura  had 
brought  into  his  existence. 

And  forthwith  the  idyl  began,  delicate,  gentle,  lovely 
as  love's  life  can  be  where  soul  and  heart  are  in  harmony, 
heart  to  soul,  while  purity  teaches  innocence  what  it  is  to 
be  man  and  wife. 

The  harmony  was  real.  Laura  and  her  husband  had 
much  in  common,  intellectually  and  morally.  Not, 
indeed,  that  she  made  any  pretence  to  superior  intelli 
gence  or  extended  culture.  Even  had  she  possessed  very 
remarkable  capabilities,  the  surroundings  in  which  she 
had  been  brought  up  had  not  been  of  a  nature  to  develop 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  67 

them  beyond  the  average.  But  she  was  not  especially 
gifted,  except  perhaps  in  having  a  good  memory  and  a 
somewhat  unusually  sound  judgment  in  most  matters. 
Yet  she  was  not  without  taste,  and  such  as  she  had  was 
not  only  both  healthy  and  refined,  but  coincided  to  an 
extraordinary  degree  with  Arden's  own.  Both  liked  the 
same  authors,  the  same  general  kind  of  art,  the  same  things 
in  nature,  and  very  generally  the  same  people.  Both  were 
perhaps  at  that  time  somewhat  morbidly  inclined  to  a 
sort  of  semi-transcendentalism,  Arden  by  nature  and  cir 
cumstances,  and  Laura  by  attraction.  It  must  not  be 
supposed  that  they  went  to  any  lengths  in  that  direction. 
They  did  not  speculate  on  spiritual  marriage,  nor  did 
they  agree  with  that  famous  philosopher  who  at  the  last 
was  sure  that  the  earth  was  turning  into  a  bun  and  the  sea 
into  lemonade  in  order  that  man  might  eat,  drink)  and  be 
happy  without  effort.  They  did  not  pursue  improbable 
theories  nor  offer  subtle  perfumes  before  the  altar  of 
impossibility.  But  they  felt  a  certain  almost  unnatural 
indifference  to  the  concrete  world,  and  lived  in  a  world  of 
ideas,  thoughts,  and  affections  which  were  quite  their 
own.  It  was  impossible  to  predict  whether  such  an  exist 
ence  would  last,  or  whether  it  would  ultimately  change 
into  one  more  evidently  stable,  if  also  less  removed  from 
earth.  For  the  present,  at  least,  both  were  indescribably 
happy. 

The  question  how  far  it  is  possible  for  one  of  two  lov 
ing  beings  to  forget  and  grow  unconscious  of  very  great 
physical  defect  in  the  other  is  in  itself  interesting  as 
showing  how  far,  in  a  well-organised  nature,  the  imma 
terial  can  get  the  better  of  grosser  things.  To  explain 
what  Laura  felt  would  be  to  explain  the  deepest  impulses 
of  humanity,  and  those  may  attempt  it  who  feel  them 
selves  equal  to  the  task  and  are  attracted  by  it.  The 
fact,  as  such,  is  undeniable.  On  the  whole,  too,  it  may 
be  said  that  there  is  no  great  reason  why  a  very  refined 
intelligence  should  not  overlook  material  considerations 
as  completely  as  in  the  majority  of  cases  the  more 


68  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

coarsely  planned  consciousness  forgets  the  existence  of 
intellectual  and  moral  deformity. 

Such  extreme  refinement  may  not  be  durable.  There 
is  a  refinement  of  nature,  inborn,  delicate,  and  sensitive, 
and  there  is  a  refinement  which  depends  for  its  existence 
upon  youth  and  innocence.  Laura  possessed  all  the  lat 
ter,  and  something  of  the  former  as  well.  She  would 
have  been  shocked  and  deeply  wounded  had  she  been  told 
that  she  had  married  Herbert  Arden  out  of  pity,  and  yet 
pity  had  undeniably  given  the  first  impulse  to  her  love. 

The  circumstances,  too,  were  favourable  for  its  growth. 
Neither  had  felt  much  regret  in  leaving  Rome.  Apart 
from  her  affection  for  her  mother,  Laura  had  never  found 
much  that  was  congenial  in  the  city  in  which  she  had  been 
brought  up  as  though  it  had  been  her  birthplace.  As  for 
Arden  himself,  he  was  too  much  accustomed  to  travelling 
from  place  to  place  to  prefer  one  city  to  another  in  any 
great  degree.  So  the  two  were  alone  together  and  desired 
nothing  beyond  what  they  had,  which,  perhaps,  is  the 
ideal  condition  for  lovers.  To  most  people,  however,  the 
honeymoon  is  a  terrible  trial  —  probably  because  most 
young  couples  are  not  very  desperately  in  love  with  each 
other.  They  wander  aimlessly  about  in  all  directions,  a 
sort  of  joint  sacrifice,  perpetually  tortured  and  daily 
offered  up  on  the  altar  of  the  diabolical  courier,  crushed 
beneath  the  ubiquitous  Juggernaut  hotel-keeper,  bound 
continually  in  new  and  arid  places  to  be  torn  by  the  vul 
ture  guide,  and  ultimately  sent  home  more  or  less  penni 
less,  quite  temperless,  and  perhaps  permanently  disgusted 
with  one  another  and  with  married  life.  And  yet  the 
absurd  farce  is  kept  up,  in  ninety  and  nine  cases  out  of 
a  hundred,  because  custom  sanctions  it  —  as  though  the 
sanction  of  custom  were  necessary  when  two  people  wish 
to  be  harmlessly  happy  in  their  own  way. 

But  with  the  Ardens  it  was  quite  different.  They 
were  quite  beyond  the  regions  of  the  guide,  the  courier, 
and  the  hotel-keeper,  and  they  loved  each  other  so  much 
that  neither  ever  irritated  the  other,  a  condition  of  exist- 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  69 

ence  probably  closely  resembling  that  of  the  saints  in 
paradise. 

Nothing  could  exceed  Laura's  watchfulness  and  care 
where  Arden's  health  was  concerned,  and,  fortunately 
for  her,  he  was  not  one  of  those  men  who  resent  being 
constantly  taken  care  of.  Indeed,  poor  man,  he  needed 
all  she  gave  him  in  that  way,  for  the  winter  season  with 
its  unusual  gaiety  and  the  necessary  exposure  to  a  cer 
tain  amount  of  night  air  in  all  weathers,  had  severely 
tried  his  constitution.  But  now  the  sea  and  the  southern 
sun  strengthened  him,  and  sometimes  there  was  even 
something  like  healthy  colour  in  his  face.  Happiness, 
too,  is  said  to  be  a  good  medicine,  better  perhaps  than 
any  in  the  world,  and  Arden  had  his  share  of  it,  and  a 
most  abundant  share.  Never,  he  said  to  himself,  had  a 
man  been  so  blessed  as  he,  nor  at  a  time  when  he  so  little 
expected  blessings,  having  made  up  his  mind  that  all  he 
could  hope  for  had  already  been  given  him  in  this  world. 
He  almost  forgot  that  he  was  a  cripple,  as  he  sat  in  his 
deep  cane  chair  by  Laura's  side,  looking  from  her  to  the 
dancing  light  on  the  water,  and  from  the  blue  water  to 
her  dark  eyes  again.  He  seemed  to  go  every  day  through 
a  round  of  beauty,  from  one  delicious  vision  to  another, 
returning  between  each  to  that  one  of  all  others  which 
he  loved  best,  and  knew  to  be  all  his  own.  And  those 
same  eyes  of  Laura's  grew  less  sad  than  they  had  been  in 
the  beginning.  The  sunlight  got  into  them,  as  into  dark 
jewels,  and  made  stars  of  light  about  their  central  depths. 
The  soft  wind  blew  on  her  clear  white  cheek  and  lent  her 
natural,  healthy  pallor  a  warmth  it  had  not  before.  Her 
very  step  grew  more  elastic,  and  the  firm,  well-shaped 
hands  seemed  more  than  ever  strong.  Almost  beautiful 
before,  there  were  moments  when  she  was  quite  beautiful 
indeed,  as  innocent  girlhood  changed  to  pure  womanhood 
in  the  sweet  southern  air. 

Laura  read  aloud  a  great  deal  in  the  intervals  of  con 
versation,  and  the  days  passed  almost  too  quickly.  The 
vessel  was  a  large  steam-yacht,  of  the  modern  type,  com- 


70  PIETEO   GHISLEKI. 

fortable  in  the  extreme,  and  capable  of  accommodating 
a  large  party  —  for  two  persons  it  was  almost  palatial. 
Whatever  the  weather,  cool  or  hot,  rainy  or  dry,  rough 
or  fair,  there  was  always  a  place  where  they  could  install 
themselves  in  the  morning  or  the  afternoon,  and  talk  and 
read  to  their  hearts7  content.  They  had  no  fixed  plan 
either  in  their  wanderings,  but  went  where  their  fancy 
took  them,  to  Palermo,  to  Messina,  to  Syracuse.  They 
sat  together  in  the  vast  ruined  theatre  above  magic  Taor- 
mina,  and  gazed  on  the  sunlit  sea  and  Etna's  snowy  crest. 
They  went  to  Malta,  they  drove,  side  by  side,  through 
the  lovely  gardens  of  Corfu.  They  ran  in  fair  weather 
up  to  the  lagoons  of  Venice,  and  wandered  in  a  gondola 
through  the  wide  canals  and  narrow  water  lanes  of  the  most 
beautiful  city  in  the  world.  Then  down  the  long  Adri 
atic  again,  past  Zara  and  Xanthe,  round  Matapan  to  the 
Pirseus  —  then,  when  they  had  had  their  fill  of  Athens, 
away  by  one  long  run  to  Sicily  again,  to  Algiers  next, 
and  then  to  Barcelona  and  the  Spanish  coast,  homeward 
bound  at  last,  towards  England.  For  the  weather  was 
growing  warm  now,  and  Laura  noticed  that  she  saw  less 
often  in  Arden's  face  the  colour  she  had  watched  with 
such  pleasure  during  the  first  weeks.  There  was  no  cause 
for  anxiety,  she  thought,  but  it  was  possible  that  he 
needed  always  an  even  temperature,  neither  cold  nor  hot, 
and  it  was  time  to  reach  England,  before  the  July  sun 
had  scorched  the  southern  land. 

And  throughout  all  this  quiet  time  the  song  of  happi 
ness  was  ever  in  their  ears.  The  world  they  cared  so 
little  for,  and  which  had  taken  the  trouble  to  say  such 
disagreeable  things  about  them,  was  .left  infinitely  far 
behind  in  their  new  life.  From  time  to  time  letters 
reached  Laura  from  Rome,  and  Arden  had  one  from  Grhis- 
leri,  containing  little  detailed  news,  but  full  of  angry 
threats  at  a  kind  of  general  undefined  enemy,  which  might 
be  humanity  taken  all  together,  or  might  be  some  one 
particular  person  whom  the  writer  had  in  his  mind.  Pietro 
generally  wrote  in  that  way.  Rarely,  indeed,  did  he  men 
tion  people  by  name,  and  then  only  when  he  had  some- 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  71 

thing  to  say  to  their  credit.  It  was  a  part  of  what  Arden 
called  his  absurd  reticence,  and  which,  absurd  or  not,  was 
certainly  exaggerated.  Possibly  Grhisleri  had,  at  some 
time  in  his  youth,  experienced  the  extremely  unpleasant 
consequences  of  being  indiscreet,  and  had  promised  him 
self  not  to  succumb  to  that  form  of  weakness  again.  At 
all  events,  he  found  that  though  Arden  sometimes  laughed 
at  him,  he  never  got  into  trouble  through  being  discreet, 
and  other  people  were  not  disposed  to  be  merry  at  his 
expense.  It  was  a  long  time  since  he  had  quarrelled 
with  any  one,  and,  having  turned  peaceable,  the  world 
promptly  accused  him  of  cynicism  and  indifference,  an 
accusation  which  did  not  annoy  him  at  all.  Indeed,  it 
was  rather  convenient  than  otherwise,  that  people  should 
think  of  him  as  they  did,  since  the  result  was  that  less 
was  expected  of  him  than  of  most  people. 

Laura's  mother  wrote  loving  letters,  full  of  simple 
household  news,  and  of  solicitude  for  her  daughter  and 
Arden,  asking  many  questions  as  to  their  plans  for  the 
future,  and  continually  expressing  the  hope  that  they 
would  spend  the  coming  winter  in  Kome. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it?  "  Laura  asked  one  day,  as 
they  sat  together  on  deck  in  the  sunshine. 

"  That  is  one  of  those  things  which  you  must  decide, 
dear,"  answered  Arden.  "  Of  course  I  suppose  I  ought  to 
spend  the  winter  in  the  south  as  usual.  I  do  not  believe 
I  could  stand  England  in  December  and  January.  There 
are  lots  of  delightful  southern  places  where  we  could  stay 
a  few  months,  besides  Rome  —  but  then,  in  Rome  you 
will  have  your  mother.  That  makes  a  great  difference." 

"You  are  first  now,  love,"  said  Laura.  "You  come 
before  my  mother  —  much  as  I  love  her." 

"  Darling  —  how  good  you  are !  "  He  took  her  hand  and 
kissed  it  softly. 

"Not  half  as  good  as  I  ought  to  be.  But  there  are  two 
things  to  be  considered,  dear.  There  is  the  climate,  as 
you  say,  and  then  there  is  a  social  question  we  have  never 
talked  about  —  it  seems  so  far  away  now.  In  the  first 


72  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

place,  does  Home  really  suit  you?    Are  you  always  well 
there,  as  you  were  last  winter?" 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  have  always  been  perfectly  well  in  Rome, 
and  I  like  the  place  immensely,  besides." 

"And  you  have  your  friend,  Signor  Ghisleri,  too. 
That  is  another  point.  On  the  other  hand,  I  do  not  think 
either  of  us  would  ever  wish  to  stay  a  whole  winter  with 
my  mother  and  step-father.  We  must  live  somewhere  by 
ourselves,  and  we  shall  have  to  live  very  quietly." 

"  The  more  quietly  the  better.  Is  that  the  social  ques 
tion,  darling?" 

"  No, "  answered  Laura,  "  but  it  is  connected  with  it. 
There  is  something  I  never  spoke  of.  Did  it  ever  strike 
you,  when  you  first  knew  me,  that  somehow  I  was  not  so 
much  liked  as  other  girls  in  society?  Do  not  think  I  ask 
the  question  out  of  any  sort  of  vanity.  I  want  to  know 
what  your  impression  was.  Tell  me  quite  frankly,  will 
you?" 

"  Of  course  I  will.  It  did  strike  me  —  I  never  knew 
whether  you  were  aware  of  it.  I  even  tried  to  find  out 
the  reason  of  it,  and  to  some  extent  I  believe  I  did." 

"Did  you?"  asked  Laura,  with  sudden  interest.  "I 
wish  I  knew  —  I  have  so  often  thought  about  it  all." 

Arden  laughed,  leaning  back  in  his  chair  and  looking 
at  her  face. 

"  It  is  the  most  absurd  story  I  ever  heard, "  he  said. 
"  I  ought  not  even  to  say  I  heard  it,  for  I  guessed  it  from 
little  things  that  happened.  People  think  that  your  step 
sister's  husband,  Savelli,  is  in  love  with  you,  and  I  sup 
pose  they  imagine  that  you  have  something  to  do  with  it 
—  encouraged  him,  and  tha,t  sort  of  thing.  I  am  quite 
sure  that  Donna  Adele  —  am  I  to  call  her  Adele  now?  — 
is  jealous,  for  I  have  witnessed  the  manifestation  with  my 
own  eyes.  It  is  all  too  utterly  ridiculous,  but  as  you  are 
quite  English  you  were  at  a  disadvantage,  and  were  not 
as  popular  as  you  ought  to  have  been." 

He  laughed  again,  and  this  time  Laura  joined  in  his 
laughter. 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  73 

"  Is  that  it?  "  she  cried.  "  Poor  Francesco !  To  think 
of  any  one  suspecting  that  he  could  be  in  love  with  me, 
when  he  is  so  perfectly  happy  with  his  wife !  And  he  is 
always  so  nice,  and  talks  to  me  more  than  any  one. 
Whenever  I  am  stranded  at  a  party,  he  comes  and  takes 
care  of  me." 

"That  is  probably  the  origin  of  the  gossip,"  observed 
Arden,  still  smiling.  "But  I  do  not  think  we  shall 
have  any  nonsense  of  that  sort  now.  Do  you  think  your 
mother  understood  it  all?  " 

"No —  and  I  believe  she  was  far  less  conscious  that 
there  was  anything  wrong,  than  I  was.  Poor  Francesco! 
I  cannot  help  laughing." 

Laura  was  sincerely  amused  by  the  tale,  as  she  well 
might  be,  and  as  Pietro  Ghisleri  would  have  been,  had 
he  heard  it.  The  story  Arden  had  put  together  out  of 
the  evidence  he  had  was,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  very 
converse  of  the  one  actually  circulated. 

"I  do  not  see,"  said  he,  "why  this  bit  of  fantastic 
gossip  need  be  taken  into  consideration,  when  we  are 
talking  of  our  winter  in  Rome.  What  difference  can  it 
possibly  make?" 

"For  you,  dear  —  and  a  little  for  me,  too.  Neither 
of  us  would  care  to  go  back  to  a  society  where  there  was 
anything  to  make  us  disliked.  As  you  say,  there  are 
plenty  of  other  places,  and  as  for  my  mother,  she  could 
come  and  see  us,  and  stop  a  little  while,  and  I  am  sure 
she  would  if  we  asked  her." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,  Laura,  that  you  seriously  believe 
our  position  would  not  be  everything  it  ought  to  be?" 
asked  Arden,  in  some  surprise. 

"  Oh,  no ;  it  would  be  all  right,  of  course.  Only  we 
might  not  be  exactly  the  centre  of  the  gay  set." 

"Which  neither  of  us  care  to  be  in  the  least." 

"  Not  in  the  least.  We  are  our  own  set,  you  and  I  — 
are  we  not?  " 

Laura  thought  of  what  Arden  had  told  her  for  a  long 
time  afterwards,  and  tried  to  explain  to  herself  by  his 


74  PIETRO  GHISLEKI. 

theory  all  the  infinitesimal  details  which  had  formerly 
shown  her  that  she  was  not  a  universal  favourite.  But 
the  story  did  not  cover  all  the  ground.  Of  one  thing, 
however,  she  became  almost  certain  —  Adele  was  her 
enemy,  for  some  reason  or  other,  and  was  a  person  to 
beware  of,  should  Laura  and  her  husband  return  to  Rome. 
It  had  taken  her  long  to  form  this  conviction,  but  being 
once  formed  it  promised  to  be  durable,  as  her  convictions 
generally  were. 

It  was  with  sincere  regret  that  the  couple  left  the  yacht 
at  last.     They  had  grown  to  look  upon  it  almost  as  a 
permanent  home,  and  to  wish  that  it  might  be  so  alto 
gether.  Nevertheless  Laura  could  not  but  see  that  Arden's 
health  improved  again  as  they  reached  a  cooler  climate 
and  travelled  northward   towards   his  brother's  home. 
The  season  was  not  yet  over  in  London,  but  "  Harry  "  did 
not  like  London  much,  and  did  not  like  the  season  there 
at  all.     What  the  Marchioness  thought  about  it  no  one 
knows  to  this  day,  but  she  appeared  to  resign  herself  with 
a  good  grace  to  the  life  her  husband  chose  to  lead.     The 
latter  welcomed  his  brother  and  Laura  in  his  own  fashion, 
with  an  odd  mixture  of  cordiality  and  stiffness,  the  latter 
only   superficial,    the   former  thoroughly   genuine    and 
heartfelt,  as  Arden  explained  to  his  wife  without  delay. 
Existence  in  an  English  country  house  was  quite  new 
to  her,  and  but  for  the  abominable  weather  for  which  that 
year  remained  famous,  she  would  at  first  have  enjoyed  it 
very  much.     The  rain,  however,  seemed  inexhaustible. 
Day  after  day  it  poured,  night  after  night  the  heavy  mists 
rose  from  park,  and  woodland,  and  meadow,  and  moor. 
It  seemed  as  though  the  sun  would  never  shine  again. 
Arden  never  grew  weary  of  those  long  days  spent  with 
Laura,  nor  indeed  was  she  ever  tired  of  being  with  the 
man  she  loved.     But  being  young  and  strong,  she  would 
gladly  have  breathed  the  bright  air  again,  while  he,  on 
his  part,  lost  appetite,  caught  cold  continually,  and  grew 
daily  paler  and  more  languid.     Little  by  little  Laura 
became  anxious  about  him  and  her  care  redoubled.     He 


PIETKO   GH1SLERI.  75 

had  never  looked  as  he  looked  now,  even  when  most  worn 
and  wearied  out  with  the  life  of  society  he  had  led  in 
Eome  before  his  marriage.  His  face  was  growing  thin, 
almost  to  emaciation,  and  his  hands  were  transparent. 
Laura  made  up  her  mind  that  something  must  be  done  at 
once.  It  was  clear  that  he  longed  for  the  south  again, 
and  it  was  probable  that  nothing  else  could  restore  him 
to  comparative  strength. 

"Let  us  go  away,  Herbert,"  she  said  one  day.  "You 
are  not  looking  well,  and  I  believe  we  shall  never  see  the 
sun  again  unless  we  go  to  the  south." 

"No,"  answered  Arden,  "I  am  not  well.  I  shall  be 
all  right  again  as  soon  as  we  get  to  Kome." 

He  seemed  to  take  it  for  granted  that  Kome  should  be 
their  destination,  and  on  the  whole  Laura  was  glad  of  it. 
She  would  be  glad  to  see  her  mother,  too,  after  so  many 
months  of  separation.  So  it  was  decided,  and  before 
long  they  were  once  more  on  their  way. 

It  was  not  an  easy  journey  for  either  of  them.  Arden 
was  now  decidedly  out  of  health,  and  needed  much  care 
at  all  times,  while  Laura  herself  was  so  nervous  and  anx 
ious  about  him  that  she  often  felt  her  hand  tremble  vio 
lently  when  she  smoothed  his  cushion  in  the  railway 
carriage,  or  poured  him  out  something  to  drink.  She 
would  not  hear  of  being  helped,  when  her  husband's  man, 
who  had  been  with  him  since  his  boyhood,  privately  en 
treated  her  to  take  a  nurse,  and  to  give  herself  rest  from 
time  to  time,  especially  during  the  journey. 

"We  must  not  let  his  lordship  know  how  ill  he  is, 
Donald,"  she  answered  gently.  "  You  must  be  very  care 
ful  about  that,  too,  when  you  are  alone  with  him.  He 
will  be  quite  well  again  in  Eome,"  she  added  hopefully. 

Donald  shook  his  head  wisely,  and  refrained  from  fur 
ther  expostulation.  He  had  discovered  that  his  new 
mistress  did  not  easily  change  her  mind  upon  any  subject, 
and  never  changed  it  at  all  when  she  thought  she  was 
right  in  regard  to  Lord  Herbert's  health. 

And  in  due  time  they  reached  the  end  of  their  journey, 


76  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

and  took  up  their  quarters  in  the  old  house  known  as  the 
Tempietto,  which  stands  just  where  the  Via  Gregoriana 
and  the  Via  Sistina  end  together  in  the  open  square  of 
the  Trinita  de'  Monti  —  a  quarter  and  a  house  dear  to 
English  people  since  the  first  invasion  of  foreigners,  but 
by  no  means  liked  or  considered  especially  healthy  by  the 
Komans. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

MEANWHILE,  the  lives  of  some  of  the  other  persons  con 
cerned  in  this  history  were  less  idyllic,  and  very  probably 
more  satisfactory  to  themselves.  Having  survived  the 
season,  and  having  borne  the  severe  Lenten  mortification 
implied  in  not  capering  nightly  to  the  tune  of  two  or 
three  fiddles  and  a  piano,  the  world  arose  after  Easter 
like  a  giant  refreshed  with  wine,  and  enjoyed  a  final  fling 
before  breaking  up  for  the  summer.  Having  danced  with 
the  windows  shut,  it  now  danced  with  the  windows  open, 
and  found  the  change  delightful,  as  indeed  it  is.  Instead 
of  sitting  in  corners  together,  the  couples  who  had  any 
thing  to  say  to  one  another  now  stood  or  sat  in  the  deep 
embrasures,  glancing  up  at  the  starlit  sky  to  see  whether 
the  dawn  were  yet  breaking.  As  for  the  rest,  there  was 
little  change  at  all.  The  little  Vicomte  de  Bompierre  had 
transferred  his  attentions  from  the  Marchesa  di  San  Gia- 
cinto  to  Donna  Maria  Boccapaduli,  and  the  Marchesa, 
who  was  in  love  with  her  husband,  did  not  seem  to  care 
at  all,  but  remained  on  the  best  of  terms  with  Donna 
Maria,  to  the  latter's  infinite  satisfaction.  The  Contessa 
dell'  Armi  attracted  more  attention  because  some  one  had 
started  the  report  that  delP  Armi  himself  was  in  a  state 
of  jealousy  bordering  upon  delirium,  that  he  had  repeat 
edly  struck  her,  and  that  he  spent  the  few  hours  he  could 
spare  from  this  unwholesome  exercise  and  from  his  par 
liamentary  duties  in  tearing  out  his  hair  by  the  handful. 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  77 

The  picture  of  dell'  Armi  evoked  by  these  stories  was 
striking,  dramatic,  and  somewhat  novel,  so  that  every  one 
was  delighted.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Count  did  not 
care  a  straw  for  his  wife,  rarely  saw  her  at  all,  and  then 
only  to  discuss  the  weather.  He  had  married  her  in  order 
that  her  fortune  might  help  him  in  his  political  career, 
he  had  got  what  he  wanted,  and  he  was  supremely  indif 
ferent  to  the  rest.  The  sad  part  of  the  matter  was  —  if 
any  one  had  known  the  truth  —  that  poor  Maddalena  dell' 
Armi  had  been  married  out  of  a  convent,  and  had  then  and 
there  fallen  madly  in  love  with  him,  her  own  husband. 
He  had  resented  her  excessive  affection,  as  it  interfered 
with  his  occupations  and  amusements,  and  after  an  inter 
val  of  five  years,  during  which  the  unhappy  young  wife 
shed  endless  tears  and  suffered  intensely,  he  had  the  sat 
isfaction  of  seeing  that  she  no  longer  loved  him  in  the 
least,  and  rather  avoided  him  than  otherwise.  In  taking 
a  fancy  to  Pietro  Ghisleri  he  thought  she  had  shown  con 
siderable  discrimination,  since  every  one  knew  that  Ghis 
leri  was  a  very  discreet  man.  The  amazing  cynicism  of 
his  view  altogether  escaped  him.  He  was  occupied  in 
politics.  If  he  had  observed  it,  he  would  have  undoubtedly 
laughed  as  heartily  as  he  did  when  a  lady  on  the  out 
skirts  of  society  told  him  that  he  was  supposed  to  be  a 
jealous  husband. 

But  the  rest  of  the  world  watched  Maddalena  and  Pietro 
with  great  interest.  They  had  quarrelled  —  or  they  had 
made  it  up  —  they  had  not  danced  together  during  one 
whole  evening  — they  had  danced  a  waltz  and  then  a 
quadrille,  the  one  after  the  other  —  Maddalena  had  been 
crying  —  by  a  coincidence,  Ghisleri  looked  unusually 
strong  and  well  —  Pietro,  again,  was  looking  somewhat 
haggard  and  weary,  and  the  Contessa  met  the  world  that 
evening  with  a  stony  stare.  There  was  endless  matter 
for  speculation,  and  accordingly  the  world  speculated 
without  end,  and,  as  usual,  to  no  puprose.  Ghisleri  was 
absolutely  reticent,  and  Maddalena  was  a  very  proud 
woman,  who,  in  spite  of  her  past  sufferings,  did  her  best 


78  PIETRO   GHISLEBI. 

not  to  let  any  one  suspect  that  she  and  her  husband  were 
on  bad  terms.  She  was  also  unhappy  in  the  present 
about  a  very  different  matter,  concerning  which  she  was 
not  inclined  to  speak  with  any  one.  Donna  Adele's  last 
decided  attempt  to  defame  Lord  Herbert  Arden  had,  to  a 
certain  extent,  been  successful,  but  it  had  also  produced 
another  result  of  which  Adele  did  not  know,  but  which 
would  have  given  her  even  greater  satisfaction.  It 
had  almost  caused  a  quarrel  between  Ghisleri  and  the 
Contessa. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  latter  heard  the  story 
from  Donna  Maria  Boccapaduli  on  the  steps  of  a  church 
in  Holy  Week.  She  was  at  the  time  more  unhappy  than 
usual.  Something  had  touched  the  finer  chords  of  her 
nature,  and  she  felt  a  sort  of  horror  of  herself  and  of  the 
life  she  was  leading  —  very  genuine  in  its  way,  and 
intensely  painful.  Donna  Maria's  story  was  revolting  to 
her,  for  just  then  everything  and  everybody  seemed  to  be 
false  —  even  Ghisleri.  She  did  not  even  stop,  as  she 
would  have  done  at  any  other  time,  to  weigh  the  value  of 
the  story,  and  to  ask  herself  whether  it  were  likely  that 
he  could  thus  deliberately  betray  his  friend,  and  espe 
cially  to  Adele  Savelli  whom  she  believed  he  disliked. 
Even  with  her  he  was  reticent,  and  she  had  never  quite 
assured  herself  of  his  opinion  concerning  Adele,  but  she 
had  watched  him  narrowly  and  had  drawn  her  own  con 
clusions.  And  now,  if  he  had  betrayed  the  man  whom 
he  called  his  friend,  he  must  be  capable  of  betraying  the 
woman  he  loved. 

"  Is  it  true  that  you  have  been  talking  to  Donna  Adele 
Savelli  about  your  friend  Arden?"  she  asked,  when  they 
met  later  on  the  same  afternoon. 

"Quite  true,"  answered  Ghisleri,  indifferently.  "We 
were  talking  about  him  yesterday  afternoon." 

"Do  you  mind  telling  me  what  you  said?"  asked  the 
Contessa,  her  eyes  hardening  and  her  whole  face  grow 
ing  scornful. 

"I  have  not  the  least  objection,"  said  Ghisleri;  coldly. 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  79 

He  at  once  gave  her  all  the  details  of  the  conversation  as 
far  as  he  could  remember  them ;  his  memory  was  accurate 
in  such  matters  and  he  scarcely  omitted  a  word. 

"Am  I  to  believe  you  or  her?"  asked  the  Contessa 
when  she  had  listened  to  the  end. 

"  As  I  am  speaking  the  truth,  it  might  be  as  well  to 
believe  me." 

"And  how  am  I  to  know  that  you  are  speaking  the 
truth,  now  or  at  any  other  time?  You  would  not  change 
colour,  nor  look  at  me  less  frankly,  if  you  were  telling 
me  the  greatest  falsehood  imaginable.  Why  should  I 
believe  you?" 

"I  am  sure  I  do  not  know,"  answered  Ghisleri.  "I 
would  only  like  to  be  sure  whether,  as  a  general  rule,  you 
mean  to  believe  me  in  future,  or  not.  If  you  do  not,  I 
need  not  say  anything,  I  suppose.  Conversation  would 
be  singularly  simplified." 

"  You  would  not  be  so  angry  with  me  now,  if  your  story 
were  true,"  said  the  Contessa,  with  a  forced  laugh. 

"  A  man  may  reasonably  be  annoyed  at  being  called  a 
liar  even  by  a  lady,"  retorted  Ghisleri. 

"  And  you  do  not  take  the  least  trouble  to  defend  your 
self— " 

"Not  the  least.  Why  should  you  believe  my  defence 
any  more  than  my  plain  statement?  You  have  rather  a 
logical  mind  —  you  ought  to  see  that." 

"  Are  you  trying  to  quarrel  with  me?  You  will  suc 
ceed  if  you  go  on  in  this  way.y 

"No.  I  am  doing  my  best  to  answer  your  questions. 
I  should  be  very  sorry  to  quarrel  with  you.  You  know 
it.  Or  are  you  going  to  doubt  that  too?  " 

"  From  the  tone  in  which  you  say  it,  and  from  the  way 
you  act,  I  am  inclined  to." 

"You  are  in  a  very  unbelieving  humour  to-day." 

"I  have  reason  to  be." 

"Am  I  the  cause?" 

"  Yes."  The  Contessa  was  not  quite  sure  why  she  said 
it,  but  for  the  moment  she  felt  that  it  was  true,  as  per 
haps  it  was  in  an  indirect  way. 


80  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

"Do  you  know  that  although  you  have  asked  me  a  great 
many  questions  which  I  have  answered  as  well  as  I  could, 
you  have  not  told  me  what  it  is  I  am  accused  of  saying?  " 
"You  are  accused  of  saying,"  answered  the  Contessa, 
looking  straight  into  his  eyes,  "that  your  friend  Lord 
Herbert  Arden  is  in  the  habit  of  taking  too  much  wine. 
Is  that  so  nice  a  thing  to  have  said?  " 

Ghisleri's  face  darkened,  and  the  blood  throbbed  in  his 
temples. 

"As  I  have  told  you  precisely  what  I  really  said/'  he 
replied,  "  I  shall  say  nothing  more.  Only  this  —  if  you 
have  any  sense  of  justice  left,  which  I  begin  to  doubt, 
you  will  ask  San  Giacinto  whether  he  thinks  it  probable 
that  I  would  say  such  a  thing.  That  is  all.  I  suppose 
you  will  believe  him." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  believe  any  one.  Besides,  as  you  say, 
he  can  only  testify  to  your  character,  and  say  that  the 
thing  is  improbable.  Of  course  he  would  do  that.  Men 
always  defend  each  other  against  women." 

"He  can  tell  you  something  more  if  he  chooses," 
answered  Ghisleri. 

"  If  he  chooses !  "  The  Contessa's  scornful  expression 
returned.  "If  he  tells  me  nothing  you  will  remind  me 
of  that  word,  and  say  that  he  did  not  choose.  How  you 
always  arrange  everything  beforehand  to  leave  yourself 
a  way  of  escape." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  should  think  so, "  said  Ghisleri,  gravely. 
"I  am  sorry  that  I  have  to  think  so.  It  does  not  in 
crease  my  self-respect,  nor  my  vanity  in  my  judgment." 
They  parted  on  very  bad  terms  that  day,  and  two  or 
three  days  more  passed  before  they  saw  each  other  again. 
The  Contessa  had  almost  made  up  her  mind  that  she 
would  not  speak  to  San  Giacinto  at  all,  and  Ghisleri  began 
to  think  that  she  wished  to  break  with  him  permanently. 
Far  more  sensitive  than  any  one  supposed,  he  had  been 
deeply  wounded  by  her  words  and  tone,  so  deeply  indeed 
that  he  scarcely  wished  to  meet  her  for  the  present.  The 
world  did  not  fail  to  see  the  coldness  that  had  come 
between  them,  and  laughed  heartily  over  it.  The  Con- 


PIETRO   GHISLEEI.  81 

tessa,  said  the  world,  thought  that  the  way  to  keep  Ghis- 
leri  was  to  be  cold  to  him  and  encourage  Pietrasanta,  but 
she  did  not  know  dear  Ghisleri,  who  did  not  care  in  the 
very  least,  who  had  not  a  particle  of  sensitiveness  in 
him,  and  had  never  really  loved  any  one  but  the  beauti 
ful  Princess  Corleone  who  died  of  fever  in  Naples  five 
years  ago,  and  of  whom  he  never  spoke. 

But  as  chance  would  have  it,  the  Contessa  found  herself 
talking  to  San  Giacinto  one  evening,  when  she  was  feel 
ing  very  lonely  and  unhappy,  and  her  half-formed  resolu 
tion  broke  down  as  suddenly  as  it  had  presented  itself. 
The  giant  looked  at  her  keenly  for  a  moment,  bent  his 
heavy  black  brows,  and  then  told  her  the  story  of  what 
had  taken  place  at  the  club.  He,  who  saw  most  things, 
and  talked  little  of  them,  noted  the  gradual  change  in  her 
face,  and  how  the  light  came  back  to  it  while  he  was 
speaking.  She  understood  that  the  man  whom  she  had 
accused  of  betraying  his  friend  had  faced  a  roomful  of 
men  in  his  defence,  and  on  the  very  ground  now  under 
discussion,  and  she  repented  of  what  she  had  done.  Then 
she  swore  vengeance  on  Adele  Savelli. 

The  world  saw  that  a  reconciliation  had  taken  place, 
and  concluded  that  Maddalena  dell'  Armi  had  abandoned 
her  foolish  plan  of  trying  to  attract  Ghisleri  by  being  cold 
to  him.  Ghisleri,  indeed!  As  though  he  cared! 

"  But  I  have  no  particular  wish  to  be  revenged  on  Donna 
Adele,"  objected  Ghisleri,  when  the  Contessa  spoke  to 
him  on  the  subject.  "That  sort  of  thing  is  a  disease  of 
the  brain.  There  are  people  who  cannot  see  things  as 
they  are.  She  is  one  of  them." 

"How  indifferent  you  are!"  sighed  Maddalena.  "I 
wonder  whether  you  were  always  so." 

"Not  always,"  answered  Pietro,  thoughtfully. 

In  due  time  the  short  Easter  season  was  over,  the  for 
eigners  departed,  and  many  of  the  Eomans  followed  their 
example,  especially  those  whose  country  places  were 
within  easy  reach  of  the  city,  by  carriage  or  by  rail.  The 
Contessa  went  to  pay  her  regular  annual  visit  at  her 


82  PIETEO   GHISLERI. 

father's,  near  Florence, — her  mother  had  long  been  dead, 
—  and  Ghisleri  remained  in  Rome,  unable  to  make  up 
his  mind  what  to  do.  Something  seemed  to.  bind  him  to 
the  town  this  year,  and  though  he  went  away  for  a  day 
or  two  from  time  to  time,  he  always  came  back  very  soon. 
Even  his  damaged  old  castle  did  not  attract  him  as  it 
usually  did,  though  he  had  begun  to  restore  it  a  little 
during  the  last  few  years,  a  little  at  a  time,  as  his  modest 
fortune  allowed.  There  was  an  odd  sort  of  foresight  in 
his  character.  He  laughed  at  the  idea  of  being  married, 
and  yet  he  had  a  presentiment  that  he  would  some  day 
change  his  mind  and  take  a  wife.  In  case  that  should 
ever  happen,  Torre  de'  Ghisleri  would  be  at  once  a  beau 
tiful  and  an  economical  retreat  for  the  summer  months. 
Though  he  had  a  reputation  for  extravagance  and  for 
living  always  a  little  beyond  his  income,  he  was  in  reality 
increasing  his  property.  He  was  constantly  buying  small 
bits  of  land  in  the  neighbourhood  of  his  castle,  with  a 
vague  idea  that  he  might  ultimately  get  the  old  estate 
together  again.  He  generally  bought  on  mortgage,  bind 
ing  himself  to  pay  at  a  certain  date,  and  as  he  was  a  very 
honourable  man  in  all  financial  transactions,  he  invari 
ably  paid,  though  sometimes  at  considerable  sacrifice. 
He  said  to  himself  that  unless  he  were  bound  he  would 
inevitably  throw  away  the  little  money  he  had  to  spare. 
It  was  a  curiously  practical  trait  in  such  an  unruly  and 
almost  lawless  character,  but  he  did  such  things  when  he 
could,  and  then  thought  no  more  about  them  until  a  fresh 
opportunity  presented  itself.  He  was  a  man  whose  life 
and  whole  power  of  interest  in  life  were  almost  constantly 
absorbed  by  the  two  or  three  persons  to  whom  he  was 
sincerely  attached,  a  fact  never  realised  by  those  who 
knew  him  —  a  passionate  man  at  heart,  and  one  who 
despised  himself  for  many  reasons  —  a  man  who  would 
have  wished  to  be  a  Launcelot  in  fidelity,  a  Galahad  in 
cleanness  of  heart,  an  Arthur  for  justice  and  frankness, 
but  who  was  indeed  terribly  far  from  resembling  any  of 
the  three.  A  man  liable  to  most  human  weaknesses,  but 
having  just  enough  of  something  better  to  make  him  hate 


P1ETKO   GHISLEKI.  83 

weakness  in  himself  and  understand  it  in  others  without 
condemning  it  too  harshly  in  them.  He  had  the  wish  to 
overcome  it  in  his  own  character  and  life,  but  when  the 
victory  looked  too  easy  it  did  not  tempt  him,  for  his 
vanity  was  of  the  kind  which  is  only  satisfied  with  win 
ning  hard  fights,,  and  rarely  roused  except  by  the  prospect 
of  them,  while  quite  indifferent  to  small  success  of  any 
kind  —  either  for  good  or  evil. 

And  this  year,  for  some  reason  which  he  did  not  attempt 
to  explain  to  himself,  he  lingered  on  in  Eome,  living  a 
lonely  life,  avoiding  the  club  where  many  of  his  acquain 
tances  still  congregated,  taking  his  meals  irregularly  at 
garden  restaurants,  and  spending  most  of  his  evenings 
in  wandering  about  Rome  by  himself.  The  old  places 
attracted  him  strongly.  Many  associations  clung  to  the 
shady  streets,  the  huge  old  palaces,  and  the  dusky 
churches.  Ten  years  of  such  a  life  as  he  had  led  had 
left  many  traces  behind  them,  many  sensitive  spots  in 
his  complicated  nature  which  inanimate  things  had  power 
to  touch  keenly  and  thrill  again  with  pain  or  pleasure. 
There  was  much  that  was  sad,  indeed,  in  these  recollec 
tions,  but  there  were  also  many  memories  dear  and  tender 
and  almost  free  from  the  sting  of  self-reproach.  He  was 
not  one  to  crave  excitement  for  its  own  sake,  nor  to  miss 
it  when  it  was  past.  It  often  chanced,  indeed,  that  he 
could  find  the  few  things  that  pleased  him,  the  few  peo 
ple  he  liked,  in  the  midst  of  the  world's  noisiest  fair, 
but  he  would  always  have  preferred  to  be  alone  with 
them,  to  meet  with  them  when  he  was  quite  sure  of  be 
ing  altogether  himself  and  not  the  overwrought,  nervous 
being  which  he  came  to  be  during  the  rush  of  the  season, 
in  spite  of  his  undeniable  physical  strength.  Those  who 
need  excitement  most  are  either  those  who  have  never 
lived  in  it,  or  those  unhappily  morbid  beings  who  cannot 
live  without  it,  because  by  force  of  habit  it  has  become 
the  only  atmosphere  which  their  lungs  can  breathe  and 
in  which  they  can  act  more  or  less  normally. 

Ghisleri  followed  the  Ardens  in  imagination  as  they 
pursued  their  wedding  trip.     He  rarely  knew  exactly 


PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

where  they  were,  but  he  was  familiar  with  all  the  places 
they  were  visiting,  and  he  liked  to  fancy  them  enjoying 
together  all  there  was  to  be  seen  and  done.  Had  he  not 
himself  still  been  young,  he  would  almost  have  fancied 
that  he  felt  a  fatherly  interest  in  their  doings.  Then  he 
heard  that  they  were  in  England,  and  at  last,  when  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  go  away  for  a  month  or  two, 
he  learned  that  Arden  was  in  bad  health.  He  was  dis 
tressed  by  the  news,  and  wished  he  could  see  his  old 
friend,  if  only  for  a  day,  to  judge  for  himself  of  his  con 
dition.  But  that  was  impossible  at  present.  He  was  not 
always  free  to  dispose  of  his  time  as  he  pleased,  and  as 
he  had  been  during  the  past  months.  Moreover,  the 
world  was  not  quite  just  when  it  said  that  Ghisleri  did 
not  "care,"  as  it  expressed  the  state  of  mind  it  attrib 
uted  to  him.  Between  going  to  England,  and  going  to  Val- 
lombrosa,  near  Florence,  he  did  not  hesitate  a  moment. 

So  the  autumn  came  round  again,  and  when  he  returned 
to  his  lodging  in  Kome,  he  found  that  the  Ardens  were 
already  installed  in  the  Tempietto.  The  Savelli  couple 
were  still  out  of  town  at  the  family  castle  in  the  Sabines, 
but  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Gerano  had  come  back. 

Ghisleri  found  both  Laura  and  Arden  greatly  changed. 
The  latter's  appearance  shocked  him  especially,  and  he 
felt  almost  from  the  first  that  his  friend  was  doomed. 
The  man  who  was  not  supposed  to  care  spent  at  least 
one  sleepless  night,  turning  over  in  his  mind  the  various 
possibilities  of  life  and  death.  On  the  following  morn 
ing  at  twelve  o'clock,  he  climbed  the  steps  to  the  Trinita 
de'  Monti,  and  asked  to  see  Lady  Herbert  Arden  alone, 
a  request  which  was  easily  granted,  as  her  husband  now 
rarely  rose  until  one,  and  then  only  for  a  few  hours. 

Laura's  eyes  looked  preternaturally  large  and  deep  — 
almost  sunken,  Ghisleri  thought  —  and  she  had  grown 
thin,  and  even  paler  than  she  usually  was  when  in  good 
health.  He  took  the  seat  she  pointed  to,  by  the  open 
fire,  and  stared  into  the  flames  absently  for  some  seconds. 
It  was  a  rather  dreary  morning  early  in  November,  and 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  85 

the  air  in  the  streets  was  raw  and  damp.  At  last  he 
looked  up. 

"  You  are  anxious  about  your  husband,  Lady  Herbert?  " 
he  said. 

Laura  sighed,  and  opened  her  white  hands  to  the 
warmth,  as  she  sat  on  the  other  side  of  the  fireplace. 
But  she  said  nothing.  She  could  not  deny  what  he  had 
told  her,  for  she  was  in  mortal  anxiety  by  day  and  night. 

"It  is  very  natural,"  said  Ghisleri,  trying  to  speak 
more  cheerfully.  "  But  I  do  not  think  there  is  any  very 
serious  reason  for  anticipating  danger.  I  have  known 
Arden  many  years,  and  I  have  often  known  him  to  be  ill 
before  now." 

Laura  glanced  nervously  at  Pietro,  and  looked  away 
again  almost  instantly.  There  was  a  frightened  look  in 
her  face  as  though  she  feared  something  unexpected. 
Perhaps  she  was  afraid  of  believing  too  readily  in  Ghis- 
leri's  comforting  view. 

"All  the  same,"  he  continued,  "there  is  no  denying 
that  he  is  in  very  bad  health.  Forgive  me  if  I  seem 
officious.  I  do  not  love  him  as  you  do,  of  course,  but  we 
have  been  more  or  less  good  friends  these  many  years  — 
since  very  long  before  you  knew  him." 

"  More  or  less  good  friends !  "  repeated  Laura,  in  a 
disappointed  tone.  "Herbert  calls  you  his  best  friend." 

"I  dare  say  he  has  many  better  than  I  am,"  answered 
Ghisleri,  quietly.  "  But  I  have  certainly  never  liked  any 
man  as  much  as  I  like  him.  That  is  why  I  come  to  you 
to-day.  Do  you  not  think  that  he  should  be  taken  care  of, 
or,  at  least  thoroughly  examined  by  the  best  specialist 
to  be  found?" 

"I  have  thought  of  it,"  said  Laura,  after  a  short  pause. 
"  Of  course  the  doctor  comes  regularly,  but  I  do  not  think 
he  is  a  really  great  authority.  I  am  afraid  that  anything 
like  a  consultation  might  alarm  Herbert.  I  see  how 
determined  he  is  to  be  cheerful,  but  I  cannot  help  seeing 
also  that  he  is  despondent  about  himself." 

"  There  need  be  nothing  like  a  consultation.  Will  you 
trust  me  in  this  matter?  " 


86  PIETEO   GHISLERI. 

Laura  looked  at  him.  She  felt,  on  a  sudden,  the  old, 
almost  inexplicable,  timid  dislike  of  him  with  which  she 
had  long  been  familiar,  and  she  hesitated  before  she 
answered. 

"  Could  I  not  manage  it  myself?  "  she  asked  abruptly. 
"It  would  seem  more  natural." 

Ghisleri's  face  grew  slowly  cold,  and  his  eyes  fixed 
themselves  on  the  fire. 

"I  thought  I  might  be  able  to  help  you,"  he  said. 
"  Have  you  any  particular  reason  for  distrusting  me  as 
you  do,  Lady  Herbert?" 

Laura's  face  contracted.  She  was  not  angry,  but  she 
was  sorry  that  she  had  shown  him  what  she  thought,  and 
it  was  hard  to  answer  the  question  truthfully,  for  she 
was  not  really  sure  whether  she  had  any  excuse  for  doubt 
ing  his  frankness  or  not.  In  the  present  instance  she 
assuredly  had  none. 

"  I  should  certainly  never  distrust  you  where  Herbert 
is  concerned,"  she  said,  after  a  short  pause.  "It  is  only 
that  it  seems  more  natural,  as  I  said,  that  I  should  be 
the  one  to  speak  to  him  and  to  arrange  about  the  special 
ist's  visit." 

"  Very  well.  Forgive  me,  as  I  begged  you  to  at  first, 
if  I  have  seemed  officious.  I  will  come  and  see  your 
husband  this  afternoon." 

The  consequence  of  this  conversation  was  that  Laura, 
being  even  more  seriously  alarmed  than  before,  since  she 
realised  that  Ghisleri  himself  was  anxious,  spoke  to 
Arden  about  the  necessity  for  seeing  a  better  doctor, 
breaking  it  to  him  with  all  the  loving  gentleness  she 
knew  how  to  use  with  him,  and  Arden  consented  without 
much  apparent  reluctance  to  being  examined  by  a  man 
who  had  a  great  reputation.  The  latter  took  a  long  time 
before  he  gave  an  opinion,  and  ultimately  declared  to 
Laura  that  her  husband  was  consumptive  and  would  prob 
ably  not  live  a  year.  Laura  suffered  in  that  moment  as 
she  would  not  have  believed  it  possible  to  suffer,  and 
it  was  long  before  she  could  compose  herself  enough 


PIETRO   GHISLEEI.  87 

to  go  to  Arden.  It  was  of  course  impossible  to  tell  him 
all  the  doctor  had  said.  She  told  him  that  his  lungs 
were  delicate,  and  that  he  must  be  very  careful. 

"It  seems  to  me  I  am  always  very  careful,"  said  Lord 
Herbert,  patiently. 

She  looked  at  him  and  saw  for  the  hundredth  time  how 
ill  he  seemed.  She  tried  to  turn  quickly  and  leave  the 
room,  but  she  could  not.  Suddenly  the  passionate  tears 
broke  out,  and  she  fell  on  her  knees  beside  his  chair  and 
clasped  the  poor  little  body  in  her  arms. 

"Oh,  Herbert,  my  love,  —my  love!  "  she  sobbed. 
Then  he  felt  that  he  was  doomed.     Had  she  loved  him 
less,  she  could  have  kept  the  secret  better.     But  he  was 
brave  still. 

"Hush,  darling,  hush!"  he  said,  gently  stroking  her 
coal-black  hair  with  his  transparent  hand.  "You  must 
not  believe  these  foolish  doctors.  I  have  been  just  as  ill 
before." 

But  the  mischief  was  done,  and  she  felt  that  she  had 
done  it,  and  her  remorse  knew  no  bounds.  In  spite  of 
his  courage,  Arden  lost  heart.  The  next  time  Ghisleri 
saw  him  he  was  much  worse.  Laura  went  out  and  left 
the  two  together. 

"  Has  anything  worried  you?  "  asked  Ghisleri.  You 
look  tired." 

Arden  was  silent  for  a  long  time,  and  his  friend  knew 
that  he  was  carefully  weighing  his  answer. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  at  last,  "  something  has  worried  me  very 
much.  I  can  trust  you  not  to  speak  — never  to  speak, 
even  to  my  wife,  of  what  I  am  going  to  say  —  especially 
if  anything  should  happen,"  he  added,  as  though  with  a 
painful  afterthought. 

"I  will  never  speak  of  it,"  replied  Pietro,  gravely. 
"I  know  you  will  not.  We  had  a  consultation  the 
other  day.  Of  course  they  were  very  careful  not  to  tell 
me  what  they  thought,  but  I  could  not  help  guessing  it. 
You  know  how  truthful  my  wife  is  —  she  could  not  deny 
it  when  I  put  the  question  directly.  It  is  all  up  with 


88  PIETKO   GHISLERI. 

me,  my  dear  fellow,  and  I  know  it.     I  am  consumptive. 
It  will  last  a  year  at  the  most." 

"I  do  not  believe  a  word  of  it!"  exclaimed  Ghisleri, 
with  unusual  heat.  "  You  are  not  in  the  least  like  a  con 
sumptive  man ! " 

"The  doctor  is  a  good  specialist,"  said  Arden,  quietly. 
"  But  that  is  not  all.  I  have  been  so  happy  —  I  am  so 
happy  in  many  ways  still  —  that  I  am  weak  enough  to 
cling  to  my  life,  such  as  it  is.  But  there  is  something 
else,  Ghisleri.  I  knew  I  was  ill,  and  I  knew  there  was 
danger  —  but  this  is  different.  I  had  hoped  to  see  my 
child,  even  if  I  were  to  die.  I  do  not  hope  to  see  it  now 
-you  understand?  Those  things  are  always  inherited." 
A  deadly  paleness  came  over  Arden' s  face,  and  his  clear 
brown  eyes  seemed  unsteady  for  a  moment.  His  face 
twitched  nervously,  and  his  hands  were  strained  as  they 
grasped  the  arms  of  his  chair.  Ghisleri  looked  very 
grave. 

"I  repeat  that  I  believe  the  doctor  to  be  wholly  mis 
taken.  It  would  hardly  be  the  first  time  that  doctors 
have  made  such  mistakes.  Consumptive  people  do  not 
behave  as  you  do.  They  always  feel  that  they  are  getting 
well,  until  the  very  last,  and  they  have  a  regular  cough, 
not  to  be  mistaken,  and  they  eat  a  great  deal.  You  are 
quite  different." 

"But  he  examined  me  so  carefully,"  objected  Arden, 
though  he  could  not  help  seeing  a  ray  of  hope. 
"I  cannot  help  that.     He  was  mistaken." 
That  afternoon  Ghisleri  telegraphed  to  a  great  Euro 
pean  celebrity  whom  he  knew  in  Paris,  to  come  if  possi 
ble  at  once,  no  matter  at  what  sacrifice  of  money.    Forty- 
eight  hours  later  the  man  of  genius  was  breakfasting 
with  Pietro  in  his  rooms. 

"I  will  ask  leave  to  bring  you  as  a  friend,"  said  the 
latter.  "  I  have  begged  you  to  come  on  my  own  respon 
sibility." 

He  wrote  a  note  to  Laura,  explaining  that  an  old 
acquaintance,  a  man  of  world-wide  fame,  was  spending  a 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  89 

couple  of  days  with  him,  and  begged  permission  to  intro 
duce  him.  He  might  amuse  Arden,  he  said.  He  did  not 
mention  the  doctor's  profession.  It  was  just  possible 
that  neither  Arden  nor  Laura  had  ever  heard  of  the  man 
who  was  so  great  in  a  world  not  theirs.  Laura  asked 
them  both  to  tea  by  way  of  answer. 

As  it  turned  out,  the  Ardens  had  a  very  vague  idea  that 
the  Frenchman  was  a  man  of  science.  In  the  course  of 
conversation  he  admitted  that  he  had  studied  medicine, 
and  then  went  on  to  talk  about  the  latest  news  from  Paris, 
social,  artistic,  and  literary.  Arden  was  charmed  with 
him,  and  Laura  was  really  grateful  to  Ghisleri  for  help 
ing  to  amuse  her  husband. 

Would  they  both  come  to  luncheon  the  next  day  ?  They 
would,  with  pleasure,  and  they  went  away  together. 

"Well?"  asked  Ghisleri,  as  they  walked  towards  the 
Pincio  in  the  early  dusk,  just  to  breathe  the  air. 

"I  think  he  may  live,"  answered  the  great  man.  "I 
believe  it  is  a  trouble  of  the  heart  with  an  almost  ex 
hausted  vitality." 

Laura  was  left  alone  with  her  husband.  Whether  it 
was  the  doctor's  personal  influence,  or  whether  Arden  was 
really  momentarily  better,  she  could  not  tell,  but  he 
looked  as  he  had  not  looked  for  two  months. 

"  That  man  delights  me, "  he  said  dreamily.  "  I  do  not 
know  what  there  is  about  him,  and  it  is  very  foolish  — 
but  I  fancy  that  if  he  were  a  doctor,  he  might  cure  me 
—  or  keep  me  alive  longer,"  he  added,  with  a  sort  of  re 
luctant  sadness. 

Laura  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"He  said  he  had  studied  medicine,"  she  answered. 
"  Shall  I  ask  Signor  Ghisleri,  if,  as  a  friend,  he  would 
come  and  give  his  opinion?" 

"It  is  too  much  to  ask  of  a  stranger." 

"Nothing  is  too  much  to  ask,"  she  said  quietly.  In 
her  own  room  she  wrote  a  note  to  Pietro. 

With  many  apologies,  she  explained  to  him  that  her 
husband  was  so  delighted  with  Ghisleri' s  friend,  that  she 


90  PIETKO    GHISLERI. 

believed  it  might  make  a  difference  if,  as  a  doctor  —  since 
he  was  one  —  the  latter  would  be  willing  to  see  him  once 
and  give  his  opinion. 

Pietro  smiled  when  he  read  the  note.  On  the  following 
day  the  great  man  went  again  to  the  Tempietto,  and  with 
many  protestations  of  incompetence  did  as  he  was  re 
quested,  assuring  Lady  Herbert  that  it  was  only  in  defer 
ence  to  her  wishes  that  he  did  so. 

"  You  are  not  consumptive  —  in  the  least,  and  you  may 
even  become  strong,"  he  said,  after  a  very  long  and  thor 
ough  examination.  "That,  at  least,"  he  added,  "is  my 
humble  opinion." 

Arden's  face  brightened  suddenly.  But  Laura  and 
Ghisleri  remained  alone  together  for  a  moment  after 
wards,  while  the  doctor  was  already  putting  on  his  coat. 

"  After  all, "  said  Laura,  despondently,  "  it  was  to  please 
Herbert.  The  man  says  that  his  opinion  is  not  worth 
very  much." 

"He  is  the  greatest  living  authority  on  the  subject," 
answered  Ghisleri.  "You  may  safely  take  his  opinion." 

Laura's  face  expressed  her  surprise,  and  at  the  same 
time,  an  unspeakable  relief. 

"Are  you  sure?"  she  asked,  in  trembling  tones. 

"Ask  your  doctor.  He  will  tell  you.  Will  you  for 
give  me  my  little  trick,  Lady  Herbert?  As  he  was  here, 
I  thought  you  might  like  to  see  him."  Ghisleri  put  out 
his  hand  to  take  his  leave,  and  Laura  pressed  it  warmly. 

"  If  I  had  ever  had  anything  to  forgive,  I  would  forgive 
you  —  for  your  great  kindness  to  me,"  she  said,  and  the 
tears  were  almost  in  her  eyes.  "It  is  you  who  should 
forgive  me  for  not  trusting  you  when  you  first  spoke. 
How  wrong  I  was !  " 

"  Nonsense !  "  exclaimed  Ghisleri.  "  It  was  very 
natural." 

And  so  it  seemed  to  him,  perhaps.  But  such  little 
tricks,  as  he  called  what  he  had  done,  cost  money,  and 
that  year  Ghisleri  did  not  buy  the  bit  of  land  which  stood 
next  on  the  list  in  his  scheme  for  reacquiring  the  old 
estate, 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  91 


CHAPTER   VII. 

ARDEN' s  health  improved,  at  first  very  rapidly,  and 
then  more  slowly,  as  he  seemed  to  approach  what,  for 
him,  was  a  normal  condition  of  strength.  The  month  of 
December  was  fine,  and  he  was  able  to  drive  out  con 
stantly,  to  be  up  most  of  the  day,  and  to  talk  with  ac 
quaintances  without  any  great  fatigue.  As  a  natural 
consequence,  too,  Laura  regained  in  a  very  short  time  all 
that  she  had  lost,  and  her  eyes  no  longer  looked  sunken 
and  haggard  nor  her  face  unnaturally  pale. 

Her  gratitude  to  Ghisleri  was  boundless,  and  as  the 
days  went  on  and  Arden  had  no  relapse,  she  began  to 
wonder  how  she  could  ever  have  felt  anything  approach 
ing  to  dislike  for  the  man  to  whom  she  almost  owed  her 
husband's  life.  Pietro,  on  his  part,  came  often  to  the 
house  and  saw  the  change  that  had  taken  place  in  her 
manner  towards  him.  He  was  pleased,  though  he  had 
not  thought  of  producing  any  impression  upon  her  by 
what  he  had  done  solely  for  Arden' s  sake,  for  he  had  long 
admired  her,  and  felt  that  she  was  very  like  a  certain 
ideal  of  woman  of  which  he  never  talked.  But  his  pleas 
ure  was  not  very  genuine,  after  all.  He  hardly  believed 
that  Laura's  mood  would  last,  because  he  had  hitherto 
had  little  experience  of  lasting  moods  in  women.  For 
the  present,  at  least,  she  believed  in  him  and  was  grate 
ful. 

About  this  time  Donna  Adele,  her  husband,  and  his 
father  and  mother  all  came  back  from  the  country,  and 
at  or  near  the  same  period  the  great  majority  of  the  old 
society  stagers  appeared  again  as  forerunners  of  the  com 
ing  season.  The  gay  set  was  not  yet  all  assembled,  and 
it  was  even  reported  that  some  of  them  would  not  come 
at  all,  for  there  was  financial  trouble  in  the  air,  and 
many  people  had  lost  money,  or  found  their  incomes 
diminished  by  the  general  depression.  Nevertheless, 


92  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

when  Christmas  came,  few  of  the  familiar  faces  of  the 
previous  year  were  missing,  and  those  few  have  not  been 
seen  in  this  history. 

"This  is  the  beginning,"  said  Gouache  to  Ghisleri. 
"  You  may  remember  that  charming  description  of  chaos 
in  the  sacred  writings:  'in  the  beginning  darkness  was 
over  all  the  earth  '  — very  like  Koine  before  the  season 
begins.  The  resemblance  ends  there,  my  dear  friend. 
The  sentence  which  follows  would  hardly  be  applicable. 
Are  we  to  have  another  Shrove  Tuesday  feast  this  year 
for  the  sake  of  giving  sin  a  last  chance?  Have  you 
another  diabolical  production  ready?" 

"  I  am  afraid  not, "  answered  Ghisleri.  "  Besides,  one 
should  never  repeat  a  good  thing." 

"That  is  what  my  wife  says,"  observed  Anastase, 
thoughtfully.  "  That  dear  woman !  But  for  her,  I  should 
do  nothing  but  repeat  my  successful  pictures  —  if  possi 
ble  by  a  chemical  process.  It  would  be  so  easy!  That 
is  the  way  the  modern  galleries  of  old  masters  are  formed. 
There  is  a  little  man  in  the  Via  da'  Falegnami  who  turns 
out  the  article  at  a  fixed  price,  including  the  cost  of  the 
green  wood  for  smoking  the  Eembrandts,  and  the  genu 
ine  old  panels  for  doing  the  Botticellis.  I  often  go  to 
see  him.  He  knows  more  about  grinding  colours,  and 
about  vehicles  and  varnishes,  and  the  price  of  lamp-black 
than  any  artist  I  ever  knew.  He  painted  that  portrait 
of  Raphael  by  himself  —  by  Eaphael,  I  mean,  for  Prince 
Durakoff  last  year,  and  found  the  documents  to  prove  its 
existence  among  his  papers.  It  took  him  six  months,  but 
it  was  well  done,  especially  the  parchments.  There  was 
even  the  receipt  for  the  money  paid  to  Eaphael  for  the 
picture  by  the  Most  Excellent  House  of  Frangipani, 
signed  by  the  painter  himself  —  I  mean  by  Eaphael. 
Cheap,  at  ten  thousand  francs.  Durakoff  paid  the  dealer 
eighty  thousand  without  bargaining.  He  did  not  reflect 
that  if  it  had  been  genuine  it  would  have  been  worth  five 
hundred  thousand,  and,  if  not,  that  it  was  not  worth  fifty 
centimes." 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  93 

"Rather  like  a  friend,"  observed  Ghisleri. 

"Friendship  is  a  matter  of  fortune,"  said  Gouache, 
"as  love  is  a  question  of  climate." 

"  You  are  not  usually  so  cynical.   What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  My  wife  has  been  amusing  me,  this  morning,  with  an 
account  of  society's  opinions  on  various  subjects.  One- 
half  of  her  friends  assure  her  that  black  is  white,  and  the 
other  half  tell  her  it  is  a  vivid  yellow.  That  is  called 
conversation.  They  give  it  you  with  tea,  milk,  and 
sugar,  between  five  and  seven  in  the  afternoon." 

Gouache  seemed  to  be  in  a  somewhat  communicative 
frame  of  mind.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  often  was  with 
Ghisleri,  whom  he  trusted  more  than  most  men. 

"What  was  it  all  about?"  inquired  the  latter. 

"People,  people,  and  then  people  again.  What  does 
everybody  talk  about?  Silly  stories  about  Lady  Herbert 
Arden  and  Savelli,  and  about  Lord  Herbert  himself,  and 
his  dissipated  life.  The  Ardens  do  not  seem  to  be  liked. 
He  is  a  great  friend  of  yours,  is  he  not?" 

"Yes,  we  have  known  each  other  almost  ten  years." 
Ghisleri  began  to  smoke,  rather  gloomily,  for  he  perceived 
that  there  was  trouble  in  store  for  Laura. 

"It  is  Donna  Adele  who  does  all  the  mischief,"  con 
tinued  Gouache,  putting  a  dash  of  bright  blue  into  the 
face  of  the  portrait  he  was  painting,  a  proceeding  which, 
as  Ghisleri  noticed  with  some  surprise,  improved  the 
likeness.  "  It  is  Donna  Adele.  You  know  the  old  story. 
Savelli  loved  Miss  Carlyon  but  could  not  marry  her. 
Donna  Adele  never  forgave  her,  and  she  will  end  by  doing 
her  a  great  deal  of  harm.  She  pretends  that  Savelli  has 
told  her  that  Lady  Herbert  is  already  talking  to  him  and 
to  everybody  of  her  own  wretched  married  life  —  rather 
hinting  that  if  Savelli  would  care  to  depart  this  life 
of  respectability  she  would  go  with  him,  a  proposition 
which,  of  course,  Savelli  scorns  in  the  most  virtuous  and 
approved  fashion,  rolling  his  fine  paternal  language  as  in 
the  fourth  act  of  a  tragedy  at  the  Comedie  Franchise.  I 
suppose  you  cannot  stop  this  sort  of  thing,  can  you?  " 


94 


PIETKO   GHISLERI. 


"  I  will  try,"  said  Ghisleri,  in  a  tone  that  made  Gouache 
look  round  from  his  painting.  He  had  not  often  wit 
nessed  even  such  a  slight  manifestation  of  real  anger  on 
Pietro's  part,  as  was  apparent  in  the  enunciation  of  the 
three  words. 

"You  might,  perhaps,  better  than  any  one  else,"  ob 
served  Gouache.  "  From  other  things  she  has  said,  it  is 
quite  apparent  that  she  would  like  to  see  you  at  her  feet." 

Ghisleri  looked  at  Anastase  rather  sharply,  but  said 
nothing.  It  was  not  the  fact  that  Donna  Adele  wished 
him  to  pay  her  more  attention  that  struck  him ;  he  was 
wondering  what  the  other  remarks  might  have  been,  to 
which  Gouache  alluded.  They  might  have  been  directed 
against  the  Contessa  —  or  they  might  have  been  such  as 
to  show  that  Adele  suspected  Ghisleri  of  an  attachment 
for  Laura  Arden  since  he  now  went  so  often  to  the  house. 
As  Gouache  did  not  volunteer  any  further  information, 
however,  Ghisleri  thought  it  wiser  to  ask  no  questions, 
and  he  was  inclined  to  infer  that  the  aforesaid  observa 
tions  had  been  directed  against  Maddalena  dell'  Armi. 

Ghisleri  went  away  in  a  very  bad  humour.  So  long  as 
the  gossip  came  from  the  men,  he  had  a  very  simple  and 
definite  course  open  to  him,  and  he  knew  that  his  personal 
influence  was  considerable.  But  when  the  worst  things 
said  were  said  by  women,  there  seemed  to  be  no  remedy 
possible.  It  would  not  be  an  easy  matter  to  go  to  Adele 
and  tax  her  with  lying,  slandering,  and  evil  speaking. 
She  would  very  properly  be  angry,  and  would  of  course 
deny  that  she  had  ever  spoken  on  the  matter,  her  friends 
would  support  her  in  her  denial,  and  he  would  be  no  fur 
ther  advanced  than  before.  He  could  not  possibly  go  to 
Francesco  Savelli  and  demand  of  the  latter  an  explana 
tion  of  Donna  Adele's  conduct.  That  was  out  of  the 
question.  To  let  Donna  Adele  know  that  both  Laura  and 
Arden  were  quite  unconscious  of  her  attacks  and,  in  their 
present  life  of  almost  enforced  retirement,  were  likely  to 
remain  in  ignorance  of  them,  might  annoy  Donna  Adele, 
but  could  do  no  good.  It  would  be  positively  unkind  to 


PIETBO    GHISLERI.  95 

speak  to  the  Princess  of  Gerano  and  ask  her  to  use  her 
influence  with  her  step-daughter,  but  Ghisleri  thought 
he  had  struck  a  possibility  at  last  —  he  could  go  to  old 
Gerano  himself  and  explain  matters.  After  all,  Gerano 
was  Adele's  father  and  had  some  authority  over  her  still. 
Ghisleri  came  rather  hastily  to  the  conclusion  that  this 
would  be  the  wisest  course  to  follow,  and  acted  almost 
immediately  upon  his  decision,  for  it  chanced  that  he 
found  the  Prince  at  the  club,  and  had  the  opportunity  he 
needed  within  half  an  hour  after  forming  his  plan  of 
action.  .. 

He  approached  the  subject  coolly  and  diplomatically, 
while  Gerano  blandly  listened  and  puffed  at  a  cigarette. 
Donna  Adele,  he  said,  had  of  course  no  intention  of 
injuring  her  step-sister,  but  she  was  too  young  to  know 
the  weight  a  careless  tale  often  carried  with  it  in  the 
world,  and  had  no  idea  of  the  harm  she  was  doing.  No 
one,  not  even  the  Prince  himself,  was  ignorant  of  the  fact 
that  Don  Francesco  Savelli's  first  inclination  had  been 
rather  for  Miss  Carlyon  than  for  Donna  Adele,  but  that  it 
had  been  a  mere  young  man's  fancy,  without  any  impor 
tance,  and  that  having  yielded  to  parental  authority,  Don 
Francesco  was  now  a  perfectly  happy  man.  Perhaps 
Donna  Adele  had  not  been  able  to  forget  this  apparent 
slight  upon  her  beauty  and  charm,  as  far  as  her  step-sister 
was  concerned,  though  well  aware  that  her  husband 
thought  no  more  about  Lady  Herbert.  It  was  natural 
and  womanly  in  her  to  resent  it.  But  that  was  not  a 
good  reason  why  she  should  say  —  as  she  seemed  to  be 
saying  constantly  —  that  Lady  Herbert  was  VQIJ  much 
in  love  with  Don  Francesco. 

Here  Ghisleri  paused,  and  the  Prince  opened  his  eyes 
very  wide  at  first,  and  then  almost  shut  them  as  he  scru 
tinised  his  companion's  face.  He  knew  the  man  well, 
however,  and  guessed  that  the  matter  must  be  serious 
indeed,  since  he  took  the  trouble  to  treat  it  in  such 
earnest. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Gerano,  "  that  you  are  quite  prepared 


96  PIETKO    GHISLERI. 

to  support  your  words  if  any  question  arises.  This  is  a 
strange  tale." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Ghisleri.  "  I  am  always  ready."  He 
spoke  with  such  gravity  that  the  Prince  was  impressed. 

Pietro  went  on  to  say  that  Donna  Adele,  doubtless  out 
of  pure  carelessness,  had  certainly,  by  a  foolish  jest,  sug 
gested  the  story  that  Lord  Herbert  was  very  intemperate, 
a  story  which  Ghisleri  had  last  year  been  obliged  to  deny 
in  the  most  formal  manner  in  the  very  room  in  which 
they  were  now  talking,  to  a  number  of  men.  The  tale 
had  of  late  been  revived  in  a  form  even  more  virulent 
than  before,  and  such  untruths,  even  when  they  have 
originated  in  a  harmless  bit  of  fun,  could  damage  a  man's 
reputation  for  life. 

"  Of  course  they  can,  and  they  do,"  asserted  the  Prince, 
who  was  becoming  rather  anxious. 

"As,  for  instance,"  continued  Ghisleri,  "it  is  now  said 
that  Lady  Herbert  Arden,  your  step-daughter,  now  talks 
to  Don  Francesco  and  to  everybody  —  which  probably 
means  the  few  persons  who  circulate  the  myth  —  about 
her  wretched  married  life,  and  other  suggestions  which 
I  will  not  repeat  are  added,  which  are  very  insulting  to 
her.  For  my  part,  my  business  is  to  defend  Arden,  who 
is  my  friend,  and  who  is  unfortunately  too  ill  to  defend 
himself  should  all,  this  come  to  his  ears.  I  do  not  say 
that  this  last  addition  concerning  Lady  Herbert's  confi 
dences  comes  from  Donna  Adele  Savelli.  But  it  is 
undoubtedly  current,  and  proceeds  directly  from  the 
former  gossip,  as  its  natural  consequence." 

"Evidently,"  said  the  Prince,  who  kept  his  temper 
admirably,  in  consideration  of  the  gravity  of  the  case. 
"And  now  what  do  you  expect  me  to  do?" 

"You  are  Donna  Adele's  father,"  answered  Ghisleri. 
"  She  is  assuredly  ignorant  of  the  harm  she  has  caused. 
It  would  seem  quite  natural  if  you  suggested  to  her  that 
it  is  in  her  power  to  undo  what  she  has  unintentionally 
done." 

"  How,  may  I  ask?  By  an  apology?  "  Gerano  did  not 
like  the  idea,  but  Ghisleri  smiled. 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  97 

"That  would  make  matters  worse,"  he  said.  "She 
could  put  everything  right  merely  by  saying  a  few  pleas 
ant  things  about  the  Ardens  to  half  a  dozen  people  of  her 
acquaintance  —  at  random.  Donna  Maria  Boccapaduli, 
the  Marchesa  di  San  Giacinto,  the  Contessa  dell'  Armi 
—  even  Donna  Faustina  Gouache.  She  might  ask  the 
Ardens  to  dinner  —  " 

"I  observe  that  you  do  not  name  any  men,"  observed 
the  Prince. 

"  It  is  not  the  men  who  have  been  talking,  so  far  as  I 
know  — nor  if  they  did,  would  their  gossip  do  so  much 
damage." 

"  That  may  be.  As  for  the  rest,  I  will  say  this.  You 
have  said  some  exceedingly  unpleasant  things  to  me  this 
afternoon,  but  I  know  you  well  enough  to  be  sure  that 
you  are  not  only  in  earnest,  but  wish  to  avert  trouble 
rather  than  cause  it.  Otherwise  I  should  not  have  lis 
tened  to  you  as  I  have.  I  am  very  deeply  attached  to 
my  only  child,  though  I  am  also  very  fond  of  my  step 
daughter.  However,  I  will  take  this  question  in  hand 
and  find  out  the  truth,  and  do  what  I  can  to  mend  mat 
ters.  If  I  find  you  have  been  misinformed,  I  will  ask  the 
favour  of  another  interview." 

"I  shall  always  be  at  your  service." 

They  parted  rather  stiffly,  but  without  any  nearer 
approach  to  hostility  than  was  implied  in  the  last  formal 
words  they  exchanged.  Gerano  walked  slowly  home 
ward,  revolving  the  situation  in  his  mind,  and  wondering 
how  he  should  act  in  order  to  get  at  the  truth  in  the  case. 
Being  very  fond  of  his  wife,  his  first  impulse  was  to  tell 
her  the  whole  story,  and  to  take  counsel  with  her  before 
doing  anything  definite.  It  would  have  been  better  had 
he  gone  directly  to  Donna  Adele,  though  he  might  not 
have  accomplished,  anything  at  all,  and  might  have  be 
lieved  her,  and  might  also  have  quarrelled  with  Ghisleri 
afterwards.  But  he  did  not  foresee  the  consequences. 

The  Princess  was  very  much  overcome  by  the  account 
he  gave  her  of  his  interview  with  Ghisleri,  of  whom  she 


98  PIETRO   GHISLEEI. 

had  a  high  opinion  as  a  man  of  truthful  character,  bad 
as  he  seemed  to  be  in  other  respects.  She  knew  instinc 
tively  and  at  once  that  every  one  of  his  statements  must 
have  been  perfectly  well  founded,  and  that  if  he  had 
erred  it  had  assuredly  not  been  in  the  direction  of  exag 
gerating  the  facts.  She  was  in  much  the  same  position 
as  her  husband,  except  that  her  own  daughter  was  the 
victim,  while  his  was  the  aggressor.  It  was  strange  that 
in  so  many  years  neither  should  have  understood  Adele's 
character  well  enough  to  suspect  that  she  could  be  capa 
ble  of  any  treachery,  and  yet  both  were  now  convinced 
that  the  case  against  her  was  not  by  any  means  a  fiction. 
The  Princess  was  now  in  the  gravest  distress,  and  she 
could  not  keep  back  her  tears  as  she  tried  to  find  argu 
ments  in  Adele's  favour,  wishing  to  the  last  to  defend  her 
husband's  child,  while  never  for  a  moment  losing  sight 
of  her  own. 

She  was  an  eminently  good  woman,  but  very  far  from 
worldly-wise.  Indeed,  as  events  proceeded  that  day, 
there  seemed  to  be  a  diminution  of  wisdom  in  the  action 
of  each  in  turn  as  compared  with  that  of  the  last  person 
concerned.  Ghisleri  had  not  really  allowed  himself  time 
to  consider  the 'Situation  in  all  its  bearings  before  speak 
ing  to  Gerano,  or  he  might  not  have  spoken  at  all.  Ge- 
rano,  next,  had  scarcely  hesitated  in  confiding  the  whole 
affair  to  his  wife,  and  she,  in  despair,  turned  to  the  one 
person  of  all  others  with  whom  she  was  really  most  in 
sympathy,  to  Laura  Arden  herself,  regardless  of  the 
consequences  to  every  one  concerned.  Lord  Herbert  was 
resting  before  dinner,  and  she  found  her  daughter  alone. 

Her  heart  was  almost  bursting,  and  she  poured  out  the 
story  in  all  its  details,  accurately,  as  she  had  heard  it, 
though  hardly  knowing  what  she  said.  At  first  Laura 
was  tempted  to  laugh.  She  had  been  so  much  happier 
of  late  that  laughing  had  grown  easy,  but  she  very  soon 
saw  the  real  meaning  of  the  situation,  and  she  grew  pale 
as  she  silently  listened  to  the  end.  Then  her  mother 
broke  down  again. 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  99 

"And  I  have  loved  her  so!"  cried  the  poor  lady. 
"  Almost  as  I  have  loved  you,  my  child !  To  think  of  it 
all  —  oh,  it  is  not  to  be  believed !  " 

Laura  was  not  at  that  moment  inclined  to  shed  tears. 
It  was  almost  the  first  time  in  her  life  when  she  was  - 
really  angry,  for  her  temper  was  not  easily  roused.  It 
was  not  destined  to  be  the  last.  Dry-eyed  and  pale,  she 
sat  beside  the  Princess,  holding  her  hands,  then  drying 
her  fast  flowing  tears,  then  caressing  her,  and  saying  all 
she  could  to  soothe  and  calm  her,  while  almost  choking 
herself  to  keep  down  the  rage  she  felt.  Her  eyes  had 
been,  opened  at  last,  and  she  saw  what  the  story  really 
was  at  which  Arden  had  made  such  a  poor  guess.  As 
the  Princess  grew  more  calm,  she  began  to  look  at  her 
daughter  in  surprise. 

"What  is  the  matter,  darling?"  she  asked  anxiously. 
"  Are  you  ill,  dear,  you  look  so  changed !  " 

"I  am  angry,  mother,"  answered  Laura,  quietly 
enough.  "I  shall  get  over  it  soon,  I  dare  say." 

Even  her  voice  did  not  sound  like  her  own.  It  was 
hollow  and  strange.  Her  mother  was  frightened. 

"  I  have  done  very  wrong  to  tell  you,  Laura, "  she  said, 
realising  too  late  that  the  revelation  must  have  been 
startling  in  the  extreme. 

"I  do  not  know,"  answered  Lady  Herbert,  still  speak 
ing  in  the  same  peculiar  tone,  and  with  an  effort.  "  Adele 
and  I  meet  constantly.  Of  course  we  have  been  brought 
up  like  real  sisters,  and  though  we  were  never  intensely 
fond  of  one  another  we  talk  about  everything  as  if  we 
were.  I  will  be  careful  in  future.  This  may  not  be  all 
true,  but  there  is  truth  in  it,  if  you  have  remembered 
exactly  what  Signer  Ghisleri  said  —  or  rather,  if  the 
Prince  has." 

The  Princess  started  slightly.  Laura  had  always  called 
Gerano  father,  as  though  she  had  really  been  his  daugh 
ter,  but  the  shock  had  been  very  sudden,  and  she  found 
it  hard  to  call  by  that  name  the  man  whose  daughter  was 
Adele  Savelli. 


PIETRO   GHISLEEI. 

"  I  hope  it  will  turn  out  to  be  all  a  mistake !  "  exclaimed 
the  Princess,  weakly,  and  on  the  point  of  bursting  into 
tears  again. 

"  Until  we  are  sure  of  it,  I  shall  try  and  behave  as 
usual  to  Adele,  if  we  have  to  meet,"  said  Laura.  "  After 
that,  if  it  is  all  true  —  I  do  not  know  —  " 

When  the  Princess  went  home,  she  was  a  little  fright 
ened  at  what  she  had  done,  and  repented  bitterly  of 
having  yielded  to  her  own  unreasoning  longing  to  talk 
the  matter  over  with  Laura  —  natural  enough  indeed, 
when  it  is  remembered  that  the  two  loved  one  another  so 
dearly.  It  had  been  a  mistake,  she  was  sure,  and  she 
would  have  given  anything  to  undo  it.  She  only  hoped 
that  she  should  not  be  obliged  to  explain  to  her  husband. 

Laura  sat  alone  by  the  fireside.  Herbert  was  lying 
down  and  would  not  appear  until  dinner  time,  so  that 
she  had  almost  an  hour  in  which  to  think  over  the  situa 
tion.  She  determined  to  master  her  anger  and  to  look 
the  matter  in  the  face  calmly.  After  all,  it  was  only  gos 
sip,  town-talk,  insignificant  chatter,  which  must  all  be 
forgotten  in  the  light  of  the  true  facts.  So  she  tried  to 
persuade  herself,  at  least,  but  she  found  it  a  very  hard 
matter  to  believe  her  own  statement  of  it  all.  The  more 
she  thought  it  over,  the  more  despicable  it  all  seemed  in 
her  eyes,  the  more  savagely  she  hated  Adele.  She  could 
have  borne  the  story  about  herself  better,  if  it  had  come 
alone,  but  she  could  neither  forgive  nor  find  an  excuse 
for  what  had  been  said  against  her  husband.  To  know 
that  people  openly  called  him  intemperate  —  a  drunkard, 
that  would  be  the  word!  Him,  of  all  living  men!  The 
assertion  was  so  monstrous  that  all  Laura's  resolution  to 
control  herself  gave  way  suddenly,  and  she,  in  her  turn, 
burst  into  a  flood  of  tears,  hot,  angry,  almost  agonising, 
impossible  to  check. 

She  might  have  been  proud  to  shed  them,  for  they 
showed  how  much  more  she  loved  her  husband  than  she 
cared  for  herself,  but  she  was  conscious  only  of  the  intense 
desire  to  face  Adele,  and  do  her  some  grievous  bodily 


PIETRO   GHI&LEA1. 

hurt  and  be  revenged  for  the  foul  slander  cast  on  Herbert 
Arden.  She  opened  and  shut  her  hands  convulsively,  as 
though  she  were  clutching  some  one  and  strangling  the 
breath  in  a  living  throat.  Every  drop  of  blood  in  her 
young  body  was  fire,  every  tear  that  rolled  down  her  pale 
cheek  was  molten  lead,  every  beat  of  her  angry  pulse 
brought  an  angry  thought  to  her  brain.  How  long  she 
remained  in  this  state  she  did  not  know. 

She  did  not  hear  her  husband's  laboured,  halting  step 
on  the  soft  carpet,  and  before  she  was  aware  of  his  pres 
ence  he  was  standing  before  her,  with  a  look  of  pain  and 
almost  of  horror  in  his  delicate  face.  That  was  the  most 
terrible  moment  in  his  life. 

Highly  sensitive  as  he  was,  loving  her  almost  to  dis 
traction  as  he  did,  he  had  always  found  it  hard  to  under 
stand  her  love  for  him.  To  suspect  that  all  of  it  was 
pity,  or  that  a  part  of  it  had  grown  weak  of  late,  was 
almost  impossible  to  him,  and  yet  the  possibility  of  doubt 
was  there.  He  had  entered  the  room  as  usual,  without 
any  precaution,  but  she  had  not  heard  him ;  he  had  seen 
her  apparently  struggling  with  herself  and  with  some  un 
seen  enemy,  in  a  paroxysm  of  grief  and  rage.  Instantly 
the  doubt  rose  supreme  and  struck  him,  like  a  sudden 
blow  in  the  face. 

"  She  has  found  out  her  mistake  too  late  —  she  does 
not  love  me,  and  she  longs  to  be  free."  That  was  what 
Herbert  Arden  said  to  himself  as  he  stood  before  her,  and 
the  horror  of  it  was  almost  greater  than  he  could  bear. 
Yet  there  was  a  great  and  manly  courage  in  his  narrow 
breast.  He  felt  that  he  must  die,  but  she  should  not 
suffer  any  more  than  was  necessary  until  then.  He  drew 
the  best  breath  he  could,  as  though  it  were  his  last.  She 
started,  wild-eyed,  as  he  spoke. 

"  Laura  darling  —  it  has  been  a  terrible  mistake  —  and 
it  is  all  my  fault.  Will  you  forgive  me,  dear  one?  I 
thought  that  you  would  love  me  —  I  see  how  it  is  when 
you  are  alone.  No  woman  could  have  borne  this  bond 
age  of  yours  as  you  have  borne  it  since  you  have  found 
out  —  " 


£l£TfiO    GHISLERI. 

"  Herbert !  Herbert !  "  cried  Laura,  in  sudden  agony. 
She  thought  he  was  going  mad  before  her  eyes. 

"No,  dear,"  he  said,  with  an  immense  effort,  and  mak 
ing  a  gesture  with  his  hand  as  though  to  keep  her  in  her 
place.  "It  is  better  to  say  it  now,  and  it  need  never  be 
said  again.  Perhaps  I  should  not  have  the  strength.  I 
see  it  all.  You  are  so  kind  and  good  that  you  will  never 
show  it  to  me  —  but  when  you  are  alone  —  then  you  let 
yourself  go  —  is  it  any  wonder?  Are  you  to  blame?  You 
see  that  you  have  made  the  great  mistake  —  that  it  was 
all  pity  and  not  love  —  and  you  long  to  be  free  from  me 
as  you  should  be,  as  you  shall  be,  dear." 

A  wild  cry  broke  from  Laura's  very  heart  when  she 
realised  what  he  meant. 

"Love!  Darling  —  Herbert!  I  never  loved  you  as  I 
love  you  now !  " 

She  did  not  know  that  she  spoke  articulate  words  as 
she  sprang  to  her  feet  and  clasped  him  in  her  arms,  half 
mad  with  grief  at  the  thought  of  what  he  must  have  suf 
fered,  and  loving  him  as  she  said  she  did,  far  beyond  the 
love  of  earlier  days.  But  he  hardly  understood  yet  that 
it  was  really  love,  and  he  tried  to  look  up  into  her  face, 
almost  fainting  with  the  terrible  strain  he  had  borne  so 
bravely,  and  still  struggling  to  be  calm. 

"Laura  darling,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "it  was  all 
too  natural.  Unless  you  tell  me  what  it  was  that  made 
you  act  as  I  saw  you  just  now,  how  can  I  understand?" 

She  turned  her  deep  eyes  straight  to  his. 

"Do  you  doubt  me  still,  Herbert?"  she  asked.  And 
she  saw  that  he  could  not  help  doubting. 

"But  if  I  tell  you  that  what  I  was  thinking  of  would 
pain  you  very  much,  and  that  it  would  be  of  no  use  —  " 

"It  cannot  be  like  the  pain  I  feel  now,"  he  answered 
simply. 

She  realised  that  what  he  said  was  true.  Then  she 
told  him  the  whole  story,  as  she  knew  it.  And  so,  in  a 
few  hours,  the  conversation  Ghisleri  had  held  with  Gou 
ache  began  to  bear  fruit  in  a  direction  where  neither  of 


PIETBO   GHISLERI.  103 

them  had  suspected  it  possible  that  their  words  could 
penetrate. 

Arden  had  allowed  himself  to  sink  into  a  chair  at 
Laura's  side,  and  he  listened  with  half -closed  eyes  and 
folded  hands  while  she  spoke.  Under  ordinary  circum 
stances  he  would  probably  have  betrayed  some  emotion, 
and  might  have  interrupted  her  with  a  question  or  two, 
but  the  terrible  excitement  of  the  last  few  minutes  was 
followed  by  a  reaction,  and  he  felt  himself  growing  colder 
and  calmer  every  moment,  while  his  heart,  which  had 
been  beating  furiously  when  he  had  first  spoken  to  her, 
seemed  now  about  to  stand  still.  As  she  proceeded, 
however,  he  was.  aware  of  the  most  conflicting  feelings 
of  happiness  and  anger  —  the  latter  of  the  quiet  and  dan 
gerous  sort.  He  saw  at  once  that  he  had  been  utterly 
mistaken  in  doubting  Laura's  love,  and  from  that  direc 
tion  peace  descended  upon  his  heart;  but  when  he  heard 
what  the  world  was  saying  of  her,  he  felt  that  weak  as 
he  was,  he  had  the  sudden  strength  to  dare  and  do  any 
thing  to  avenge  the  insult.  He  was  human  enough,  too, 
to  resent  bitterly  the  story  about  himself,  though  that, 
after  all,  was  but  a  secondary  affair  in  comparison  with 
the  gossip  about  Laura. 

When  she  had  finished,  he  rose  slowly,  and  sat  upon 
the  arm  of  her  easy-chair,  drawing  her  head  to  his  shoul 
der.  He  kissed  her  hair  tenderly. 

"My  beloved  —  can  you  forgive  me?"  he  asked,  in  a 
very  gentle  voice.  "My  darling  — that  I  should  have 
doubted  you ! " 

"I  am  glad  you  did,  dear  —  this  once,"  she  answered. 
"You  see  how  it  is.  You  are  all  the  world  to  me  —  the 
mere  thought  that  any  one  can  hurt  you  by  word  or  deed 
—  oh,  it  drives  me  mad !  " 

And  she,  who  was  usually  so  very  calm  and  collected, 

again  made  that  desperate  gesture  with  her  hands,   as 

though  she  had  them  on  a  woman's  throat  and  would 

strangle  out  the  life  of  her  in  the  grip  of  her  firm  fingers. 

"As  for  me,   it  matters  little  enough,"  said  Arden, 


104  PIETEO   GHISLERI. 

taking  her  hands  and  stroking  them  as  though  to  soothe 
her  anger.  "  Of  course  it  is  an  absurd  and  disgusting 
story,  and  I  suppose  some  people  believe  it.  But  what 
they  say  of  you  is  a  very  different  matter." 

"  I  do  not  think  so, "  broke  in  Laura,  indignantly.  "  Of 
course  every  one  knows  that  we  love  each  other,  and  that 
it  is  all  a  lie  —  but  when  such  a  tale  is  started  about  a 
man  —  that  he  drinks  —  oh,  it  is  too  utterly  vile!  " 

"Dear  —  shall  we  try  and  forget  it?  At  least  for  this 
evening.  Let  us  do  our  best.  You  have  made  me  so 
happy  in  another  way  —  I.  suffered  in  that  moment  very 
much." 

She  looked  up  into  his  face  as  he  sat  on  the  arm  of  the 
chair,  and  she  saw  that  he  looked  very  ill.  The  scene 
had  been  almost  too  much  for  him,  and  she  realised  that 
when  he  spoke  of  forgetting  it  was  because  he  could  bear 
no  more. 

"Yes,  love,"  she  said,  "we  will  put  it  all  away  for 
this  evening  and  be  happy  together  as  we  always  are." 

Each  was  conscious,  no  doubt,  that  the  other  was  mak 
ing  a  great  effort,  but  neither  of  them  referred  to  the 
matter  again  that  night.  They  talked  of  all  manner  of 
subjects,  rather  nervously  and  resolutely  at  first,  then 
naturally  and  easily  as  ever,  when  the  deep  sympathy 
which  existed  between  them  had  asserted  itself.  During 
two  hours,  at  least,  they  nearly  forgot  vtfhat  had  so  vio 
lently  moved  them  both. 

When  Arden  laid  his  head  upon  his  pillow,  his  anger 
had  not  subsided,  but  he  knew  that  his  love  had  taken 
greater  strength  and  depth  than  ever  before.  He  spent 
a  sleepless  night  indeed,  but  when  he  rose  in  the  morning 
he  did  not  feel  tired.  Something  within  him  which  was 
quite  new  seemed  to  sustain  him  and  nourish  him.  He 
could  not  tell  whether  it  was  love  for  Laura,  or  anger 
against  the  woman  who  slandered  her,  or  both  acting  at 
once,  and  he  did  not  waste  much  time  in  speculating  upon 
his  mental  condition.  He  had  formed  a  resolution  upon 
which  he  meant  to  act  without  delay. 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  105 

It  was  a  rainy  morning,  chilly  and  raw  again,  as  the 
weather  had  been  earlier  in  the  year. 

"Give  me  warm  clothes,  Donald,"  he  said  to  his  man. 
"I  am  going  out." 

"Going  out,  my  lord!  In  this  weather!"  Donald's 
face  expressed  the  greatest  anxiety. 

"Never  mind  the  weather,"  said  Arden.  "Give  me 
warm  clothes,  and  send  for  a  closed  carriage." 

Donald  obeyed,  shaking  his  head,  and  muttering  in 
detached  expressions  of  disapproval.  He  was  a  privi 
leged  person. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ARDEN,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  paid  no  attention 
to  Laura's  remonstrances  when  she  tried  to  prevent  him 
from  going  out  in  the  rain,  and  he  would  not. hear  of  her 
accompanying  him  on  any  condition.  He  assured  her 
that  with  his  fur  coat,  and  in  a  closed  carriage  with  a 
foot-warmer,  he  was  as  safe  as  at  home  in  the  drawing- 
room,  and  he  gave  her  to  understand  that  he  had  a  small 
surprise  in  store  for  her,  of  which  all  the  effect  would  be 
spoiled  if  she  went  with  him.  Very  reluctantly  she  let 
him  go.  Even  after  he  was  gone,  when  she  heard  the 
brougham  rattling  down  the  Via  Gregoriana,  she  was 
tempted  to  open  the  window  and  call  the  driver  back. 
Then  she  reflected  that  she  was  probably  foolish  in  being 
so  anxious,  since  he  now  seemed  almost  as  well  as  ever. 

When  he  left  the  house,  Arden  drove  to  a  certain-studio, 
and  then  and  there  bought  a  small  picture  which  Laura 
had  admired  very  much,  and  had  been  two  or  three  times 
to  see.  To  the  artist's  surprise,  he  insisted  upon  carry 
ing  it  away  with  him  at  once,  just  as  it  was.  Then  he 
told  the  coachman  to  drive  to  the  Palazzo  Savelli.  He 
sent  up  his  card  and  asked  to  see  Don  Francesco,  and  at 
once  received  an  answer,  begging  him  to  go  up  stairs. 


106  PIETKO   GHISLERI. 

Francesco  was  very  much  surprised  by  the  visit,  and 
could  not  conceive  what  had  brought  Lord  Herbert  Arden 
to  him  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning.  He  awaited  him 
in  a  vast  and  gloomy  drawing-room  in.  which  there  was 
no  fire.  The  walls  were  hung  with  old  portraits  of  the 
Savelli  in  armour,  the  carpet  was  of  a  sombre  hue,  and 
the  furniture  consisted  of  three  superb  marble  tables  with 
carved  and  gilt  feet,  and  sixteen  chairs  of  the  style  of 
Louis  the  Fourteenth's  reign,  all  precisely  alike,  and 
standing  side  by  side  against  the  walls.  Francesco  Sa 
velli  stood  facing  the  door,  his  yellow  hair,  blue  eyes, 
and  fresh  complexion  contrasting  strongly  with  the  dark 
background.  He  was  a  fine-looking  fellow,  with  a  mild 
face,  a  quiet  manner,  and  a  good  deal  of  old-fashioned 
formality,  which  latter,  however,  seemed  to  wear  off 
every  evening  in  society,  coming  back  as  soon  as  he 
returned  to  the  dim  and  shadowy  halls  of  his  home. 

The  connexion  between  him  and  Arden  was  in  reality 
so  distant,  that  they  had  never  assumed  even  the  outward 
forms  of  intimacy,  though  their  wives  called  each  other 
sister.  Savelli  disliked  Lord  Herbert  because  he  was  a 
cripple,  and  chiefly  because  he  had  married  Laura  Carl- 
yon.  Arden,  on  his  side,  was  more  or  less  indifferent  to 
Francesco,  but  treated  him  always  with  a  shade  more 
warmth  than  an  ordinary  acquaintance,  as  being,  in  a 
sense,  a  member  of  his  wife's  family. 

Savelli  came  forward  as  Arden  entered.  The  servant 
allowed  the  heavy  curtain  to  drop,  closed  the  door,  and 
went  out,  and  the  two  men  were  left  alone. 

"Good  morning,  my  dear  Arden,"  said  Savelli,  taking 
his  hand.  "  I  hope  you  are  quite  well.  Pray  be  seated." 

"Good  morning.     Thanks."     Both  spoke  in  French. 

They  sat  down,  side  by  side,  on  the  stiff,  high-backed 
gilt  chairs,  and  each  looked  at  the  other. 

"I  have  something  especial  to  say  to  you,"  began  Ar 
den,  in  his  calm  and  even  voice  —  a  man  quicker-witted 
than  Savelli  would  have  noticed  the  look  of  determina 
tion  about  the  smooth-shaven  lips  and  the  prominent  chin 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  107 

—  the  look  of  a  man  who  will  not  be  trifled  with,  and 
will  say  what  he  means  in  spite  of  all  difficulties  and  all 
opposition. 

"I  am  entirely  at  your  service,"  answered  Don  Fran 
cesco,  politely. 

"Thanks.  I  have  thought  it  best  to  come  to  you 
directly,  because  my  business  concerns  your  wife  and 
mine,  and  it  is  better  that  we  should  settle  such  matters 
between  us  without  the  intervention  of  others." 

Savelli  opened  his  eyes  in  surprise,  but  said  nothing, 
only  making  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head  in  answer. 
Arden  continued  in  the  cool  and  collected  manner  with 
which  he  had  begun. 

"A  number  of  outrageous  lies,"  he  said  slowly,  "are 
in  circulation  concerning  my  wife,  and  some  of  them  con 
cern  myself.  May  I  inquire  whether  you  have  heard 
them?" 

"It  would  facilitate  matters,  if  you  would  tell  me 
something  of  their  nature,"  observed  Savelli,  more  and 
more  astonished. 

"  There  is  no  difficulty  about  that.  I  can  even  repeat 
them  to  you,  word  for  word,  or  nearly  so.  It  is  said,  in 
the  first  place,  that  my  wife  is  very  much  in  love  with 
you  —  " 

"With  me?"  cried  Savelli,  startled  out  of  his  formal 
ity  for  once. 

"Yes  —  with  you  —  and  that  she  has  loved  you  long. 
Secondly,  it  is  said  that  I  am  a  confirmed  drunkard,  and 
that  my  wife  leads  a  most  unhappy  existence  with  me  in 
consequence.  It  is  further  stated  that  she  makes  no 
secret  of  this  supposed  fact,  but  complains  loudly  to  her 
friends,  and  especially  selects  you  for  her  confidence  in 
the  matter." 

"That  is  totally  untrue, "  said  Don  Francesco,  gravely. 
"  She  has  never  spoken  of  you  to  me  except  in  terms  of 
the  highest  praise." 

"  I  am  aware  that  it  is  not  true,  but  I  am  much  obliged 
to  you  for  your  very  plain  statement.  I  will  go  on.  It 


108  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

is  asserted  that  my  wife  has  given  you  to  understand  that 
she  loves  you,  and  that,  if  you  would  consent,  she  would 
be  ready  to  leave  me  and  Borne  in  your  company.  These 
things,  it  appears,  are  current  gossip,  and  are  confidently 
stated  as  positive  truths." 

"I  have  not  heard  any  of  them,  except  some  vague 
reports  about  yourself,  to  the  effect  that  you  once  took 
too  much  wine  at  the  Gerano's  house.  But  Ghisleri  made 
a  scene  about  it  at  the  club,  and  I  have  heard  no  more  of 
the  absurd  story." 

"  I  did  not  know  that  Ghisleri  had  actively  taken  my 
part, "  answered  Arden.     "  But  the  story  has  now  reached 
the  form  in  which  I  repeated  it.     For  myself,  I  care  very 
little.     It  is  on  account  of  its  connexion  with  the  tales 
about  my  wife  that  I  have  told  it  to  you." 
"May  I  ask  who  your  informant  is?" 
"My  wife." 
"And  hers?" 

"  A  reliable  and  truthful  person,  whom  I  shall  not  name 
at  present.  The  affair  concerns  you  and  me.  I  have  not 
come  to  the  most  important  point,  which  will  explain  why 
I  came  to  you." 

"  I  supposed  that  you  came,  as  to  a  connexion  of  the 
family,  to  ask  advice  or  assistance." 

"No.  That  is  not  it.  I  do  not  need  either,  thank 
you.  I  come  to  you  because  all  these  stories  are  dis 
tinctly  traceable  to  Donna  Adele  Savelli." 

Francesco  started  violently,  and  almost  rose  from  his 
seat,  his  face  flushing  suddenly. 

"  Lord  Herbert  —  take  care !  "  he  cried  in  a  loud  and 
angry  voice,  and  with  a  passionate  gesture. 

"Be  calm,"  said  Arden,  in  an  unnaturally  quiet  tone. 
"  If  you  strike  me,  you  will  be  disgraced  for  life,  because 
I  am  a  cripple.  But  I  assure  you  that  I  am  not  in  the 
least  afraid  of  you." 

"You  are  wrong!"  exclaimed  Savelli,  still  furious, 
and  turning  upon  him  savagely. 

"  Not  at  all, "  returned  the  Englishman,  unmoved.     "  I 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  109 

came  here  to  settle  this  business,  and  I  have  not  the  small 
est  intention  of  going  away  until  I  have  said  all  I  meant 
to  say.  After  that,  if  you  are  inclined  to  demand  satisfac 
tion  of  me,  as  is  the  custom  here,  you  can  do  so.  I  will 
consider  the  matter.  I  shall  probably  not  exchange  shots 
with  yon,  because  I  believe  that  duelling  is  wrong.  But 
let  me  say  that  I  do  not  in  the  least  mean  to  insult  you, 
nor,  as  I  think,  have  I  been,  lacking  in  civility  to-day. 
I  have  given  you  a  number  of  facts  which  I  have  every 
reason  for  believing  to  be  true.  You  will  in  all  likeli 
hood  have  no  difficulty  in  finding  out  whether  they  are 
true  or  not.  If  we,  jointly,  are  convinced  that  the  state 
ments  are  false,  I  shall  be  happy  to  offer  you  my  best 
apologies;  if  not,  and  if  you  are  convinced  that  Donna 
Adele  has  been  slandering  my  wife,  I  shall  expect  you  to 
act  upon  your  conviction,  as  a  man  of  honour  should,  and 
take  measures  to  have  these  reports  instantly  and  fully 
denied  everywhere  by  Donna  Adele  herself.  I  think  I 
have  stated  the  case  plainly,  and  what  I  have  said  ought 
not  to  offend  you,  in  my  opinion." 

"It  is  certainly  impossible  to  be  more  plain,"  answered 
Savelli,  regaining  something  of  his  outward  calm.  "As 
to  what  may  or  may  not  give  offence,  opinions  may  differ 
in  England  and  in  Italy." 

" They  probably  do,"  returned  Arden,  coolly.  "It  is 
not  my  intention  to  offend  you." 

Francesco  Savelli  looked  at  the  shrunken  figure  and  the 
thin  hands  with  an  odd  sensation  of  repulsion  and  respect. 
He  had  been  very  far  from  supposing  that  Herbert  Arden 
possessed  such  undeniable  courage  and  imperturbable 
coolness,  and  not  being  by  any  means  a  coward  himself, 
he  could  not  help  admiring  bravery  in  others.  He  was 
none  the  less  angry,  however,  though  he  made  a  great 
effort  to  keep  his  temper.  He  did  not  love  his  wife,  but 
he  lv,d  all  the  Roman  traditions  concerning  the  sacred- 
ness  of  the  family  honour,  which  he  now  felt  was  really 
at  stake,  and  he  had  all  a  Koman's  dread  of  a  public 
scandal. 


HO  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

"  I  must  beg  you  once  more  to  tell  me  by  whom  these 
stories  were  told  to  Lady  Herbert,"  he  said,  after  a  pause. 

"  I  cannot  do  so,  without  consulting  that  person, " 
answered  Arden.  "  I  do  not  wish  to  drag  other  people 
into  the  affair.  You  will  be  able  to  find  out  for  yourself, 
and  probably  through  members  of  your  own  family,  how 
much  truth  there  is  in  it  all." 

"You  positively  refuse  to  tell  me?" 

"  I  have  said  so.  If  you  wish  to  be  confronted  with  the 
person  in  question,  I  will  consult  that  person,  as  I  said 
before." 

"And  if  I  then,  on  my  side,  positively  refuse  to  do 
anything  without  having  previously  spoken  to  that  per 
son  —  to  him  or  to  her  —  what  then ?  " 

"  In  my  opinion,  you  will  be  allowing  a  state  of  things 
to  continue  which  will  not  ultimately  reflect  credit  upon 
you  or  yours.  Moreover,  you  will  oblige  me  to  take  some 
still  more  active  measures." 

"What  measures?" 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  will  think  about  it.  And  now  I 
will  wish  you  good  morning." 

He  got  upon  his  feet,  and  stood  before  Savelli. 

"  Good  morning,"  said  the  latter,  very  stiffly.  "  Allow 
me  to  accompany  you  to  the  hall." 

"Thanks,"  said  Arden,  as  he.  began  to  move  towards 
the  door  in  his  ungainly,  dislocated  fashion,  while 
Savelli  walked  slowly  beside  him,  towering  above  him  by 
a  third  of  his  own  height. 

Arden  shivered  as  he  slipped  on  his  fur  coat  in  the 
hall,  for  it  had  been  very  cold  in  the  drawing-room  though 
he  had  scarcely  noticed  the  fact  in.  his  preoccupied  state 
of  mind.  While  driving  homeward,  he  looked  at  the 
little  picture  as  it  stood  opposite  to  him  on  the  seat  of 
the  carriage.  It  was  one  of  those  exquisite  views  of  the 
Campagna,  looking  across  the  Tiber,  which  Sartori^  does 
so  wonderfully  in  pastel. 

"She  will  be  glad  to  have  it,"  said  Arden  to  himself, 
"and  she  will  understand  why  I  went  out  alone." 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  Ill 

He  was  tolerably  well  satisfied  with,  the  morning's 
work.  It  had  seemed  to  him  that  there  was  nothing  else  to 
be  done  under  the  circumstances,  and  he  certainly  did  not 
choose  the  least  wise  course,  in  going  directly  to  Savelli. 
He  did  not  regret  a  word  of  what  he  had  said,  nor  did  he 
feel  that  he  had  said  too  little.  As  he  anticipated,  Laura 
suspected  nothing,  and  was  delighted  with  the  picture. 
She  scolded  him  a  little  for  having  insisted  upon  going 
out  on  such  a  morning,  especially  for  her  sake,  but  as  the 
clouds  just  then  were  breaking  and  the  sunshine  was 
streaming  into  the  room,  she  felt  as  though  it  could  not 
have  been  a  great  risk  after  all.  Before  they  had  finished 
luncheon,  a  note  was  brought  in.  Laura  laughed  oddly 
as  she  read  it. 

"It  is  an  invitation  to  dinner  from  Adele,"  she  said. 
"  It  is  for  the  day  after  to-morrow,  shall  we  accept?  " 

Arden's  face  grew  thoughtful.  He  could  not  be  sure 
whether  the  invitation  had  been  sent  before  his  interview 
with  Savelli,  or  since.  It  was  therefore  not  easy  to  decide 
upon  the  wisest  course. 

"Better  to  accept  it,  is  it  not?"  asked  Laura.  "It  is 
of  no  use  to  make  an  open  breach." 

"  No.  It  is  of  no  use.  Accept,  dear.  It  is  more  sen 
sible." 

Neither  of  them  liked  the  thought  of  dining  at  the 
Palazzo  Savelli  just  then,  and  Laura,  at  least,  knew  that 
she  would  find  it  hard  to  behave  as  though  nothing  had 
happened.  Both  would  have  been  very  much  surprised, 
could  they  have  known  why  they  were  asked,  and  that 
the  idea  had  originated  with  Pietro  Ghisleri. 

On  the  previous  evening,  G-erano  had  taken  pains  to 
see  his  daughter  alone  at  her  own  house,  on  pretence  of 
talking  to  her  about  business.  With  considerable  skill 
he  had  led  the  conversation  up  to  the  required  point,  and 
had  laid  a  trap  for  her. 

"  Do  you  see  much  of  the  Ardens  just  now?  "  he  asked. 

"No.  We  do  not  meet  often,"  answered  Adele,  with 
a  little  movement  of  the  shoulders. 


112  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

"I  wish  you  did.  I  wish  you  saw  them  every  day," 
observed  the  Prince,  more  gravely. 

"Do  you,  papa?     Why?" 

"You  might  find  out  something  that  I  wish  very  much 
to  know.  It  would  not  be  hard  at  all.  We  are  rather 
anxious  about  it." 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Adele,  with  sudden 
interest. 

"That  is  it.  There  is  a  disagreeable  story  afloat. 
More  than  one,  in  fact.  It  has  reached  my  ears  on  good 
authority  that  Arden  drinks  far  too  much.  You  know 
what  a  brave  girl  Laura  is.  She  hides  it  as  well  as  she 
can,  but  she  is  terribly  unhappy.  Have  you  any  idea 
whether  there  is  any  truth  in  all  this?" 

Adele  hesitated  a  moment,  and  looked  earnestly  into 
her  teacup,  as  though  seeking  advice.  The  moment  was 
important.  Her  father  had  brought  her  own  story  back 
to  her  for  confirmation,  as  it  were.  It  might  be  danger 
ous  to  take  the  other  side  now.  Suddenly  she  looked  up 
with  a  well-feigned  little  smile  of  embarrassment. 

"I  would  rather  not  say  what  I  think,  papa,"  she  said, 
with  the  evident  intention  of  not  denying  the  tale. 

"But,  my  dear,"  protested  her  father,  "you  must  see 
how  anxious  we  are  on  Laura's  account.  Keally,  my 
child,  have  a  little  confidence  in  me  —  tell  me  what  you 
know." 

"If  you  insist  —  well,  I  suppose  I  must.  I  am  afraid 
there  is  no  doubt  about  it.  Laura's  husband  is  very 
intemperate." 

"Ah  me!  I  feared  so,  from  what  I  had  heard,"  said 
the  Prince,  looking  down,  and  shaking  his  head  very 
sadly. 

"You  see,  the  people  first  began  to  talk  about  it  last 
year,  when  he  was  in  such  a  disgraceful  condition  in  your 
house,  and  Pietro  Ghisleri  had  to  take  him  home." 

"Yes,  yes!  "  Gerano  still  shook  his  head  sorrowfully. 
"  I  ought  to  have  known,  but  they  told  me  it  was  a  faint 
ing  fit.  And  the  worst  of  it  is,  my  dear  Adele,  that  there 


PIETEO  GHISLERI.  113 

are  other  stories,  and  worse  ones,  too,  about  Laura.  I 
hear  that  she  is  seriously  in  love  with  Francesco.  Poor 
thing!  it  is  no  wonder  —  she  is  so  unhappy  at  home,  and 
Francesco  is  such  a  fine  fellow,  and  always  so  kind  to  her 
everywhere." 

"No,  it  is  no  wonder,"  assented  Adele,  who  felt  that 
she  was  launched,  and  must  go  to  the  end,  though  she 
had  no  time  to  consider  the  consequences. 

"I  suppose  there  is  really  some  evidence  about  Arden's 
habits,"  resumed  the  Prince.  "  Of  course  he  will  deny  it 
all,  and  I  would  like  to  have  something  to  fall  back  upon 

—  to  convince  myself  more  thoroughly,  you  understand." 
Adele  paused  a  moment. 

"  Arden  has  a  Scotch  servant, "  she  said  presently.  "  It 
appears  that  he  is  very  intimate  with  our  butler,  who 
has  often  seen  him  going  into  the  Tempietto  with  bottles 
of  brandy  hidden  in  an  overcoat  he  carries  on  his  arm." 

"Dear  me!  How  shocking!"  exclaimed  the  Prince. 
"  So  old  Giuseppe  has  actually  seen  that !  " 

"Often,"  replied  Adele,  with  conviction.  "But  then, 
after  all  —  so  many  men  drink.  If  it  were  not  for  Laura 

—  poor  Laura! " 

"  Poor  Laura,  —  yes,  as  I  said,  it  is  no  wonder  if  she 
has  fallen  in  love  with  Francesco  —  such  a  handsome 
fellow,  too!  She  has  shown  good  taste,  at  least."  The 
Prince  laughed  gently.  "At  all  events,  you  are  not 
jealous,  Adele;  I  can  see  that." 

"I?"  exclaimed  Adele,  with  indignant  scorn.  "No, 
indeed!" 

Gerano  began  to  feel  his  pockets,  as  though  searching 
for  something  he  could  not  find.  Then  he  rang  the  bell 
at  his  elbow. 

"  I  have  forgotten  my  cigarettes,  my  dear,  I  must  have 
left  them  in  my  coat,"  he  said. 

The  old  butler  answered  his  summons  in  person,  for 
Gerano  knew  the  usage  of  the  house  and  had  pressed  the 
button  three  times,  unnoticed  by  Adele,  which  meant  that 
Giuseppe  was  wanted. 


114  PIETKO    GHISLERI. 

"  I  have  left  my  cigarettes  in  my  coat,  Giuseppe, "  said 
the  Prince.  Then  as  the  man  turned  to  go,  he  called 
him  back.  "  Giuseppe !  " 

"Excellency!" 

"  I  want  you  to  do  a  little  commission  for  me.  I  have 
a  little  surprise  for  Donna  Laura,  and  I  do  not  want  her 
to  know  where  it  comes  from.  It  must  be  placed  on  her 
table,  do  you  see?  Now  Donna  Adele  tells  me  that  you 
are  very  intimate  with  Lord  Herbert's  Scotch  servant  —  " 

"I,  Excellency?"  Giuseppe  was  very  much  aston 
ished. 

"  Yes  —  the  man  with  sandy  grey  hair,  and  a  big  nose, 
and  a  red  face  —  a  most  excellent  servant,  who  has  been 
with  Lord  Herbert  since  he  was  a  child.  Donna  Adele 
says  you  know  him  very  well  —  " 

"Her  Excellency  must  be  mistaken.  It  must  have 
been  some  other  servant  who  told  her.  I  never  saw  the 
man." 

"You  said  Giuseppe,  did  you  not?"  asked  the  Prince 
very  blandly,  and  turning  to  Adele.  She  bit  her  lip  in 
silence.  "Never  mind,"  he  continued.  "It  is  a  mis 
understanding,  and  I  will  manage  the  surprise  in  quite 
another  way.  My  cigarettes,  Giuseppe." 

The  man  went  out,  and  Adele  and  the  Prince  sat  with 
out  exchanging  a  word,  until  he  returned  with  the  case, 
Gerano  all  the  time  looking  very  gentle.  When  the  ser 
vant  was  gone  a  second  time,  the  Prince's  expression 
changed  suddenly,  and  he  spoke  in  a  stern  voice. 

"Now  that  you  have  sufficiently  disgraced  yourself, 
my  daughter,  you  will  begin  to  make  reparation  at  once," 
he  said. 

Adele  started  as  though  she  had  been  struck,  and  stared 
at  him. 

"I  am  in  earnest,"  he  added. 

"What  do  you  mean,  papa?"  she  asked,  frightened  by 
his  manner.  "Disgraced  myself?  You  must  be  mad!  " 

"You  know  perfectly  well  what  I  mean,"  answered  her 
father.  "I  have  been  playing  a  little  comedy  with  you, 


PIETKO    GHISLERI.  115 

and  I  have  found  out  the  truth.  You  know  as  well  as  I 
that  everything  you  have  repeated  to  me  this  evening  is 
absolutely  untrue,  and  there  is  some  reason  to  believe 
that  you  have  invented  these  tales  and  set  them  going  in 
the  world  out  of  jealousy,  and  for  no  other  reason,  with 
deliberate  intention  to  do  harm.  Even  if  it  were  not  you 
who  began,  it  would  still  be  disgraceful  enough  on  your 
part  to  say  such  things  even  to  me,  and  you  have  said 
them  to  others.  That  last  vile  little  invention  about  the 
bottles  was  produced  on  the  spur  of  the  moment  —  I  saw 
you  hesitate.  You  are  responsible  for  all  this,  and  no 
one  else.  I  will  go  into  the  world  more  in  future  than  I 
have  done  hitherto,  and  will  watch  you.  You  are  to  make 
full  reparation  for  what  you  have  done.  I  insist  upon  it. " 
"  And  if  I  deny  that  I  originated  this  gossip,  and  refuse 
to  obey  you,  what  will  you  do?"  asked  Adele,  defiantly. 
"  You  are  aware  that  under  the  present  laws  I  can  dis 
pose  of  half  my  property  as  I  please,"  observed  the  Prince. 
"  Laura  has  nothing  —  "  He  stopped  significantly. 

Adele  turned  pale.  She  was  terrified,  not  so  much  at 
the  thought  of  losing  the  millions  in  question,  but  at  the 
idea  of  the  consequence  to  herself  in  her  father-in-law's 
house.  Casa  Savelli  counted  upon  the  whole  fortune  as 
confidently  as  though  it  were  already  theirs.  She  knew 
very  well  how  she  should  be  treated  during  the  rest  of 
her  life,  if  one-half  of  the  great  property  were  lost  to  her 
husband's  family  through  her  fault. 

"  You  are  forcing  me  to  acknowledge  myself  guilty  of 
what  I  never  did,"  she  said,  still  trying  to  make  a  stand. 
"What  do  you  wish  me  to  do?" 

"  You  will  everywhere  say  nice  things  about  Laura  and 
her  husband.  You  will  say  that  you  are  now  positively 
sure  that  Arden  does  not  drink.  You  will  say  that  there 
is  no  truth  whatever  in  the  report  that  Laura  is  in  love 
with  Francesco,  and  that  you  are  absolutely  certain  that 
the  Ardens  are  very  happy  together.  Those  are  the  prin 
cipal  points,  I  believe.  You  will  also  at  once  ask  them 
to  dinner,  and  you  will  repeat  your  invitation  often,  and 
behave  to  both  in  a  proper  way." 


PIETRO   GHISLERI. 


A  dele  laughed  scornfully,  though  her  mirth  had  some 
thing  of  affectation  in  it. 

"Say  pretty  things,  and  invite  them  to  dinner!  "  she 
exclaimed.  "That  is  not  very  hard.  I  have  not  the 
slightest  objection  to  doing  that,  because  I  should  do  it 
in  any  case,  even  if  you  had  not  made  me  this  absurd 
scene." 

"In  future,  my  child,  before  you  call  anything  I  do  or 
say  absurd,  I  recommend  you  to  think  of  the  law  regard 
ing  wills,  to  which  I  called  your  attention." 

Adele  was  silent,  for  she  saw  that  she  was  completely 
in  her  father's  power.  Being  really  guilty  of  the  social 
misdeeds  with  which  she  was  charged,  she  was  not  now 
surprised  by  his  manner.  What  really  amazed  her  was 
the  display  of  diplomatic  talent  he  had  made,  while 
entrapping  her  into  what  amounted  to  a  confession.  She 
had  never  supposed  him  capable  of  anything  of  the  kind. 
But  he  was  a  quiet  man,  much  more  occupied  in  dealing 
with  humanity  in  the  management  of  his  property  than 
most  people  realised.  No  genius  —  certainly,  —  for  if 
he  had  been,  he  would  not  have  told  the  whole  story  to 
his  wife,  as  he  had  done  on  the  previous  evening,  but 
possessing  the  talent  to  choose  the  wise  course  at  least  as 
often  as  not,  which  is  more  than  can  be  said  for  most 
people.  There  was  something  of  the  old-fashioned  father 
about  him,  too,  and  he  showed  it  in  the  little  speech  he 
made  before  leaving  Adele  that  evening. 

"And  now,  my  dear  daughter,"  he  said,  rising  and 
standing  before  her  as  he  spoke,  "  I  have  one  word  more 
to  say  before  I  go.  You  are  my  only  child,  and,  in  spite 
of  all  that  has  happened,  I  love  you  very  much.  I  do 
not  believe  that  you  have  ever  done  anything  of  the  kind 
until  now,  and  I  do  not  think  you  will  fall  into  the  same 
fault  in  the  future.  If  you  do  all  that  I  have  told  you 
to  do,  I  shall  never  refer  to  the  matter  after  this,  and 
we  will  try  and  forget  it.  But  you  have  learned  a  lesson 
which  you  will  remember  all  your  life.  Jealousy  is  a 
great  sin,  and  slander  is  not  only  vile  and  degrading,  but 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  117 

is  also  the  greatest  mistake  possible  from  a  worldly  point 
of  view.  Kemember  that.  If  you  wish  to  be  successful 
in  society,  never  speak  an  unkind  word  about  any  one. 
And  now  good  night,  my  dear.  Do  what  I  have  bidden 
you,  and  let  us  think  no  more  about  it." 

Having  concluded  his  sermon,  Gerano  kissed  Adele  on 
the  forehead,  as  he  was  accustomed  to  do.  She  bent  her 
head  in  silence,  for  she  was  so  angry  that  she  could  not 
trust  herself  to  speak,  and  he  left  her  at  the  door  and 
went  home.  All  things  considered,  she  knew  that  she 
had  reason  to  be  grateful  for  his  forbearance.  She  was 
quite  sure  that  her  father-in-law  would  have  behaved 
differently,  and  the  stories  she  had  heard  of  old  Prince 
Saracinesca's  temper  showed  clearly  that  the  race  of  vio 
lent  fathers  was  by  no  means  yet  'extinct.  She  was  not 
even  called  upon  to  make  a  formal  apology  to  Laura  in  her 
father's  presence,  which  was  what  she  had  at  first  ex 
pected  and  feared.  Nothing,  in  fact,  was  required  of  her 
except  to  avoid  gossip  and  treat  the  Ardens  with  a  decent 
show  of  sisterly  affection.  She  could  scarcely  have  got 
better  terms  of  peace,  had  she  dictated  them  herself. 

But  she  was  far  too  angry  to  look  at  the  affair  in  this 
light  and  far  too  deeply  humiliated  to  forgive  her  father 
or  the  Ardens.  If  anything  were  necessary  to  complete 
her  shame,  it  was  the  knowledge  that  she  was  utterly 
unable  to  cope  with  Gerano,  who  could  disinherit  her  and 
her  children  of  an  enormous  sum  by  a  stroke  of  the  pen, 
if  he  pleased ;  and  he  would  please,  if  she  did  not  obey  him 
to  the  letter. 

With  a  trembling  hand  she  wrote  the  invitation  required 
of  her  and  gave  it  to  be  taken  in  the  morning.  Then  she 
sat  down  and  tried  to  read,  taking  up  a  great  French  review 
and  opening  it  hap-hazard.  The  article  chanced  to  be 
one  on  a  medical  subject,  written  by  a  very  eminent 
practitioner,  but  not  at  all  likely  to  interest  Adele  Savelli. 
But  she  felt  the  necessity  of  composing  herself  before 
meeting  her  husband  when  he  should  come  home  from  the 
club,  and  she  followed  the  lines  with  a  sort  of  resolute 


118  PIETEO    GHISLERI. 

determination  which  belonged  to  her  character  at  certain 
moments.  It  was  very  hard  to  understand  a  word  of 
what  she  was  reading,  but  she  at  last  became  absorbed  in 
the  effort,  and  ultimately  reached  the  end  of  the  paper. 
In  the  meantime,  Francesco  Savelli  had  spent  his  day  in 
deliberately  thinking  over  the  situation,  and  he  had  deter 
mined,  very  wisely,  that  it  would  be  a  great  mistake  to 
speak  to  his  wife  on  the  subject.  He  went  over  in  his 
mind  all  the  men  of  his  acquaintance  whom  he  might  con 
sult  with  safety  and  with  some  prospect  of  obtaining  a 
truthful  answer  to  his  question,  and  he  saw  that  they 
were  by  no  means  many.  Wisdom  and  frankness  are  rare 
enough  separately,  but  rarer  still  in  combination  in  the 
same  person,  though  a  few  are  aware  that  the  truest  wis 
dom  is  the  most  consistent  frankness.  Most  of  those  of 
whom  Savelli  thought  were  men  considerably  older  than 
himself,  and  not  men  with  whom  he  had  any  great  inti 
macy.  The  Prince  of  Sant7  Ilario  and  his  cousin,  the 
Marchese  di  San  Giacinto,  Spicca,  the  melancholy  and  sar 
castic,  and  perhaps  Pietro  Ghisleri  —  there  were  not  many 
more,  and  the  last  named,  who  was  the  nearest  to  him 
in  point  of  age,  was  not,  as  Savelli  thought,  very  friendly 
to  him.  On  the  whole,  he  determined  to  wait  and  bide 
his  time,  watching  Adele  carefully,  and  collecting  such 
evidence  as  he  could  while  studiously  keeping  his  own 
counsel.  He  saw  very  little  of  his  wife  on  that  day,  and 
when  he  next  spoke  to  her  about  the  Ardens,  her  manner 
was  so  cordial  and  apparently  sincere,  that  he  at  once 
formed  an  opinion  in  her  favour,  as  indeed  he  desired  to 
do,  though  it  was  more  for  the  sake  of  his  family  as  a 
whole,  than  for  her  own. 

"I  have  asked  them  to  dinner,"  she  said,  "because  we 
never  see  anything  of  them,  any  more  than  if  they  were 
not  in  Rome.  Shall  we  have  my  father  and  the  Princess, 
too?  It  will  make  a  family  party." 

"By  all  means,"  answered  Savelli,  who  did  not  enjoy 
the  prospect  of  having  the  Ardens  as  the  only  guests, 
after  what  had  recently  passed  between  himself  and  Lord 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  119 

Herbert.     "  By  all  means  —  a  family  party  —  a  sort  of 
rejoicing  over  Arden's  recovery." 

"Dear  Arden!"  exclaimed  Adele.  "I  like  him  now. 
I  used  to  have  the  greatest  antipathy  for  him  because  he 
is  a  cripple,  poor  fellow !  I  suppose  that  is  natural,  but 
I  have  quite  got  over  it." 

"I  am  very  glad,"  observed  Francesco.  "You  and 
Laura  were  brought  up  like  sisters  — there  ought  never 
to  be  any  coldness  between  you." 

"  Oh,  as  for  Laura,  there  never  has  been  the  least  dif 
ference  since  we  were  children.  We  are  sisters  still,  just 
as  we  used  to  be  when  you  first  came  to  the  house.  Do 
you  remember,  Francesco  —  four  years  ago?  I  used  to 
think  you  liked  Laura  better  than  me.  Indeed  I  did !  It 
was  so  foolish,  and  now  you  are  always  so  good  to  me 
that  I  see  how  silly  I  was.  It  never  was  true,  carissimo, 
was  it?" 

"No,  indeed!"  answered  Savelli,  with  an  awkward 
laugh,  and  turning  away  his  face  to  hide  the  colour  that 
rose  in  his  cheeks. 

"  Of  course  not.     And  as  for  Laura,  she  is  so  much  in 
love  with  her  husband  that  I  believe  she  was  dreaming  of 
him  even  then,  before  she  had  ever  seen  him,  and  long- 
before  she  was  old  enough  to  think  of  marrying  any  one. 
How  she  loves  him!     Is  it  not  wonderful?" 

Francesco  glanced  at  his  wife,  and  he  believed  that  he 
was  not  mistaken  in  her.  There  was  a  look  of  genuine 
admiration  almost  amounting  to  enthusiasm  in  her  face. 
He  suppressed  a  slight  sigh,  for  he  still  loved  Laura  in 
his  helpless  and  hopeless  way. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "  it  is  wonderful,  all  things  considered." 

"But  then,"  concluded  Adele,  "with  Arden's  beautiful 
character  —  well,  I  am  not  surprised." 


120  PIETEO   GHISLER1. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

ADELE  SAVELLI  was  a  very  good  actress,  and  she  deceived 
her  husband  without  much  trouble,  making  him  believe 
that  she  had  never  felt  ill-disposed  towards  Laura,  and 
that  the  repulsion  she  had  felt  for  Ar.den  had  depended 
upon  his  deformity,  to  which  she  had  now  grown  accus 
tomed,  as  was  quite  natural.  She  had  aways  been  care 
ful  not  to  speak  out  her  mind  upon  the  subject  to 
Francesco,  and  had  been  more  than  cautious  in  other 
respects.  She  was  far  too  clever  a  woman  to  let  him 
hear  the  gossip  she  had  originated  except  through  out 
siders,  in  the  way  of  general  conversation,  and  now  she 
found  it  easy  to  change  her  tactics  completely  without 
doing  anything  to  rouse  his  suspicion.  She  seemed  very 
much  preoccupied,  however,  in  spite  of  her  efforts  to  seem 
cheerful  and  agreeable  during  the  two  days  which  pre 
ceded  the  dinner  party  her  father  had  obliged  her  to  give. 
There  were  domestic  details,  too,  which  gave  her  trouble, 
and  she  had  more  than  enough  to  occupy  her.  Her  maid 
had  been  very  ill,  too,  and  was  barely  beginning  to  re 
cover.  Every  woman  of  the  world  knows  what  it  means 
to  be  suddenly  deprived  of  a  thoroughly  good  maid's  ser 
vices  just  at  the  opening  of  the  season.  That  was  one 
more  annoyance  among  the  many  she  encountered,  and, 
in  her  opinion,  not  the  smallest. 

There  was,  of  course,  no  open  humiliation  in  what  she 
was  now  forced  to  do,  but  she  felt  the  shame  of  defeat 
very  keenly  whenever  she  thought  of  her  interview  with 
her  father.  It  was  not  surprising  that  her  hatred  of  the 
Ardens  should  suddenly  take  greater  proportions  under 
circumstances  so  favourable  to  its  growth.  And  she  hated 
them  both  with  all  her  heart,  while  preparing  herself  to 
receive  them  with  open  arms  and  protestations  of  affec 
tion.  But  she  did  everything  in  her  power  to  make  the 
meeting  effective.  She  even  went  so  far  as  to  buy  pretty 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  121 

little  gifts  for  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Gerano,  and  for 
Laura  and  Arden,  which  she  took  the  trouble  to  conceal 
with  her  own  hands  in  the  folds  of  each  one's  napkin 
just  befsre  dinner;  pretty  little  chiselled  silver  sweet 
meat  boxes  for  the  two  ladies,  and  tiny  matchboxes  for 
the  men.  Both  the  elder  Savelli  being  away  at  the  time, 
she  arranged  everything  according  to  her  own  taste,  which 
was  excellent,  thus  taking  advantage  of  her  position  as 
temporary  mistress  of  the  house.  There  were  flowers 
scattered  on  the  table,  a  form  of  decoration  of  which  the 
old  butler  disapproved,  shaking  his  head  mournfully  as 
he  carried  out  Adele's  directions. 

She  did  not  over-act  her  part  when  the  evening  came, 
for  she  knew  how  to  be  very  charming  when  she  pleased, 
and  she  meant  on  the  present  occasion  to  produce  a  very 
strong  impression  upon  every  one  present  at  dinner.  She 
succeeded  well.  The  Ardens  themselves  were  surprised 
at  the  pleasant  feeling  which  seemed  to  pervade  every 
thing.  Gerano  looked  at  his  daughter  approvingly, 
repeatedly  smiled,  nodded  to  her,  and  at  last  drank  her 
health.  Don  Francesco  was  delighted,  for  he  saw  in  his 
wife's  manner  the  strongest  refutation  of  all  that  Arden 
had  told  him  two  days  earlier.  Moreover,  he  had  Laura 
Arden  on  his  left  and  was  at  liberty  to  talk  to  her  as 
much  as  he  pleased,  which  was  in  itself  a  great  satisfac 
tion,  especially  as  she  herself  was  more  than  usually 
cordial,  being  determined  not  to  betray  herself.  Fran 
cesco  looked  across  the  table  at  Arden  more  than  once, 
with  a  significant  glance,  and  inwardly  congratulated 
himself  upon  having  said  nothing  to  his  wife  about  the 
difficulty. 

Arden  looked  ill.  He  had  caught  cold  during  that 
interview  with  Savelli  in  the  icy  drawing-room,  and  even 
an  ordinary  cold  told  quickly  upon  his  appearance  in  his 
weak  state  of  health.  But  he  did  all  in  his  power  to  seem 
cheerful  and  talked  more  than  usually  well,  so  that  his 
wife  alone  knew  that  he  was  making  an  effort. 

So  the  dinner  passed  off  admirably  —  so  well,  indeed, 


122  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

that  when  all  were  going  home,  Laura  and  her  mother 
looked  at  one  another  as  though  they  could  hardly  believe 
what  they  had  seen  and  heard.  The  Princess  of  Gerano 
began  to  doubt  the  truth  of  the  accusations  against  Adele, 
and  even  Laura  fancied  that  they  must  have  been  very 
much  exaggerated.  The  Prince,  himself,  the  only  one  of 
the  party  who  had  heard  the  slander  from  Adele's  own 
lips,  sentence  by  sentence,  and  almost  word  for  word  as 
Ghisleri  had  repeated  it  to  him,  wisely  held  his  peace, 
while  by  no  means  so  wisely  believing  that  his  daughter 
had  repented  and  was  carrying  out  his  instructions  in  all 
sincerity.  He  kissed  her  affectionately  on  the  forehead 
when  he  went  away,  and  she  felt  that  she  had  won  a 
victory. 

"You  look  a  little  pale,  my  child,"  he  said.  "I  have 
noticed  it  all  the  evening.  Be  very  careful  of  your  health, 
my  dear." 

"Yes,  papa  —  but  I  am  quite  well,  thank  you,"  an 
swered  Adele. 

Yet  she  did  not  look  well.  There  was  an  odd,  half- 
frightened  look  in  her  eyes  when  they  were  all  gone  and 
she  was  left  alone  with  her  husband.  But  he  did  not 
notice  it,  and  made  it  easy  for  her,  bestowing  infinite 
praise  upon  her  tact  and  talent  as  a  hostess.  Though 
she  did  not  hear  all  he  said,  she  was  vaguely  pleased, 
that,  after  spending  the  whole  evening  at  Laura's  side, 
he  should  stay  at  home  instead  of  going  to  the  club,  and 
find  so  many  pleasant  things  to  say.  In  spite  of  her 
success,  however,  she  spent  a  restless  night. 

Laura  looked  anxiously  at  Arden's  face  when  they  got 
home.  He  looked  worse,  and  coughed  two  or  three  times 
in  a  way  she  did  not  like. 

"  You  are  very  tired,  dear, "  she  said.  "  You  had  better 
not  get  up  to-morrow.  The  rest  will  do  you  good." 

"I  think  you  are  right,"  he  answered.     "I  need  rest." 

The  next  morning  his  cold  was  worse,  and  he  did  not 
rise.  He  seemed  restless  and  nervous,  too,  perhaps  from 
the  fatigue  of  the  previous  evening.  The  doctor  came 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  123 

and  said  there  was  no  danger,  as  the  cold  was  not  on  the 
lungs,  and  that  the  best  thing  to  be  done  was  to  stay  in 
bed  two  or  three  days.  Later  in  the  afternoon  Pietro 
Ghisleri  called,  and  Laura,  at  Arden's  express  desire, 
received  him  alone,  promising  to  bring  him  into  the  bed 
room  afterwards.  Several  days  had  passed  since  they  had 
met.  Ghisleri  was  looking  fresher  and  less  nervous  than 
the  last  time  Laura  had  seen  him.  He,  on  his  part,  saw 
that  she  was  anxious  again,  for  there  were  dark  shadows 
under  her  eyes  as  there  had  been  when  she  had  first 
returned  from  England. 

"Is  there  anything  wrong?"  he  asked,  as  soon  as  they 
met. 

"  Herbert  has  a  bad  cold, "  she  answered.  "  The  doctor 
says  it  is  nothing  serious,  but  he  coughs,  and  I  am  wor 
ried  about  him." 

Ghisleri  reminded  her  that  there  was  nothing  the  mat 
ter  with  Arden's  lungs,  and  that  a  cough  might  be  a  very 
insignificant  affair,  after  all.  Then  she  told  him  of  the 
dinner  party  on  the  previous  evening,  dwelling  at  length 
on  the  tact  and  amiability  Adele  had  displayed.  Pietro 
was  inclined  to  smile,  when  he  understood  that  what  he 
had  said  to  Gerano  had  borne  fruit  so  soon.  He  was  quite 
sure  that  before  night  he  should  hear  of  some  even  more 
amiable  doings  on  Adele 's  part,  for  he  guessed  at  once 
that  the  Prince  had  forced  her  to  change  her  behaviour. 
But  he  kept  his  reflections  to  himself.  There  was  no 
reason  why  any  one  but  Gerano  should  ever  know  that 
he  had  been  concerned  in  the  matter.  He  had  no  idea 
that  everything  had  been  repeated  through  the  family, 
till  it  had  reached  Laura  herself. 

"Donna  Adele  has  great  social  talent,"  he  remarked, 
finding,  as  usual,  the  one  thing  to  be  said  in  her  favour. 

"  Indeed  she  has !  "  assented  Laura,  with  a  constrained 
little  laugh,  and  looking  into  his  blue  eyes. 

Ghisleri  made  no  sign,  however,  and  presently  began 
to  talk  of  other  matters.  He  always  felt  a  singular  sat 
isfaction  in  being  with  Laura,  and  this  year  he  noticed 


124  PIETKO    GHISLBEI. 

that  it  was  growing  upon  him.  The  impression  he  had 
first  formed  of  her,  when  she  had  appeared  in  society,  was 
confirmed  year  by  year,  and  appealed  to  a  side  of  his 
nature  of  which  few  people  suspected  the  existence.  It 
depended  largely  on  Laura's  looks,  no  doubt,  which 
strongly  suggested  the  high  predominance  of  all  that  was 
good  over  the  ordinary  instincts  of  average  human  nature. 
He  felt  a  sort  of  reverence  for  her  which  he  had  never 
felt  for  any  one ;  he  knew  that  she  was  good,  he  imag 
ined  that  she  was  almost  saintly  in  her  life,  and  he 
believed  that  she  might,  under  certain  circumstances 
become,  in  the  best  religious  sense,  a  holy  woman.  Had 
he  seen  her  on  that  evening  when  Arden  had  found  her 
strangling  an  imaginary  enemy  in  a  fit  of  exceedingly 
human  anger,  he  could  hardly  have  accepted  the  evidence 
of  his  senses.  All  that  was  good  in  her  appealed  directly 
through  all  that  was  bad  in  him  to  the  small  remnant  of 
the  better  nature  which  had  survived  through  his  mis 
spent  life.  It  did  not,  indeed,  rouse  in  him  the  slightest 
active  desire  to  imitate  her  virtues.  The  very  idea  that 
he  could  ever  be  virtuous  in  any  sense,  brought  a  smile 
to  his  face.  But  he  could  not  help  admiring  what  he 
knew  to  be  so  very  far  beyond  his  sphere  —  what  he 
believed,  perhaps,  to  be  even  further  from  his  reach  than 
it  actually  was.  He  had  reached  that  almost  morbid  stage 
of  self-contempt  in  which  a  man,  while  still  admiring 
goodness  in  others,  checks  even  the  aspiration  towards  it 
in  his  own  heart,  because  he  is  convinced  that  it  cannot 
be  really  genuine,  and  looks  upon  it  as  one  of  the  affec 
tations  most  to  be  despised  in  himself.  He  had  got  so 
far  sometimes  as  to  refuse  a  very  wretched  beggar  a  penny, 
merely  because  he  doubted  the  sincerity  of  the  charitable 
impulse  which  impelled  his  hand  towards  his  pocket  — 
laughing  bitterly  at  himself  afterwards  when  he  thought 
of  the  poor  wretch's  disappointed  face,  and  going  back 
to  find  him  again,  perhaps,  and  to  bestow  a  silver  coin, 
simply  because  he  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  be 
kind. 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  125 

Such  unhealthy  conditions  of  mind  may  seem  incon 
ceivable  and  incomprehensible  to  men  of  other  nature, 
all  whose  thoughts  are  natural,  logical,  and  sound.  They 
exist,  none  the  less,  and  not  by  any  means  necessarily  in 
persons  otherwise  weak  or  morbid.  The  very  absurdity 
of  them,  which  cannot  escape  the  man  himself,  makes 
him  seem  still  more  despicable  in  his  own  eyes,  in 
creases  his  distrust  of  himself  and  gives  rise,  completing 
the  vicious  circle,  to  conditions  each  time  more  sense 
lessly  self-torturing  than  the  last.  It  is  hard  to  bring 
such  men  to  see  how  untenable  their  own  position  is. 
They  will  not  even  believe  that  a  good  instinct  underlies 
the  superstructure  of  morbid  fancy,  and  that  the  latter 
could  not  exist  without  it. 

Ghisleri  looked  long  at  Laura  and  admired  her  more 
than  ever,  realising  at  the  same  time  how  deeply  her 
personality  was  impressed  in  his  thoughts,  and  how  viv 
idly  he  was  able  at  all  times  to  evoke  her  outward  image, 
and  the  conception  he  had  formed  of  her  character.  He 
almost  hated  old  Spicca  for  having  said  that  no  one  could 
possibly  be  as  good  as  she  looked.  In  her  own  self  she 
was  the  most  overwhelming  refutation  of  that  remark ; 
but  then,  he  reflected,  Spicca  did  not  know  her  well 
enough,  and  habitually  believed  in  nothing  and  in  nobody. 
At  least  every  one  supposed  that  was  Spicca's  view  of 
the  world. 

Before  long  Laura  took  Pietro  to  see  Arden,  and  left 
the  two  together. 

"  There  is  something  seriously  wrong  with  me,  Ghis 
leri,"  said  his  friend.  "I  am  going  to  be  very  ill.  I 
feel  it." 

It  was  not  like  him  to  speak  in  that  way,  for  he  was 
brave  and  generally  did  his  best  to  hide  his  sufferings 
from  every  one.  Ghisleri  looked  at  him  anxiously.  His 
face  was  drawn  and  pinched,  and  there  were  spots  of 
colour  on  his  cheeks  which  had  not  been  there  a  few 
hours  earlier. 

"  Perhaps  you  have  a  little  fever  with  the  cold, "  sug- 


126  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

gested  Pietro,   in  a  reassuring  tone.     "  It  often  happens 
in  this  country." 

"I  dare  say,"  replied  Arden.  "It  may  be  so.  At  all 
events,  your  specialist  was  right  about  the  main  thing, 
and  I  am  no  more  consumptive  than  you  are.  But  I  feel 
—  I  cannot  tell  why  —  that  I  am  going  to  be  very  ill 
indeed.  It  may  be  an  impression,  and  even  if  I  am,  I 
shall  probably  weather  it." 

"Of  course  you  will."  But  Ghisleri  was  in  reality 
alarmed. 

"I  am  so  glad  you  came  to-day,"  continued  Arden, 
speaking  more  rapidly.  "If  I  should  get  worse  to 
morrow,  really  ill,  you  know  —  you  must  write  to  my 
brother.  I  would  not  ask  my  wife  to  do  it  for  worlds. 
Do  you  understand?" 

"Perfectly  —  but  I  do  not  believe  there  will  be  any 
reason  —  " 

"Never  mind  that!"  exclaimed  Arden,  interrupting 
him  almost  impatiently.  "  If  there  is  any  reason,  you 
will  write.  I  cannot  tell  you  all  about  it.  Of  course  I 
may  not  be  delirious,  you  know,  but  again,  I  may  be  — 
one  is  never  sure,  and  then  it  would  be  too  late.  Uncle 
Herbert  is  alive  still,  thank  God,  and  quite  well,  and  if 
anything  should  happen  to  me,  his  will  would  be  worth 
nothing.  Laura  would  not  get  a  penny  and  would  be 
dreadfully  poor.  Henry  must  do  something  for  her.  Do 
you  understand  me?  He  must.  You  must  see  to  it,  too, 
or  he  will  never  think  of  it  — kind  as  he  is.  Those 
things  do  not  strike  him.  You  see  I  have  only  my  small 
portion  —  which  is  little  enough,  as  you  know,  because 
there  are  so  many  sisters  —  and  they  are  not  all  rich, 
either.  We  could  not  go  on  living  in  this  way  long  — 
but  Henry  was  very  generous.  He  sent  me  two  thousand 
pounds  when  we  were  married,  and  the  yacht  too,  so  that 
we  spent  very  little  —  " 

"You  are  exhausting  yourself,  my  dear  fellow,"  said 
Ghisleri,  growing  more  anxious  as  he  listened  to  the  sick 
talk,     "  You  have  told  me  all  this  before, 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  127 

and  your  brother  knows  it  too ;  he  will  not  allow  Lady 
Herbert  —  " 

"  One  never  can  tell  what  he  will  do,"  broke  in  Arden, 
raising  himself  a  little  on  his  elbow,  and  facing  his  friend. 
H  is  eyes  were  unnaturally  brilliant.  "  He  is  so  eccentric. 
And  Laura  must  have  money  —  she  must  have  plenty  — 
not  that  she  is  extravagant,  but  you  know  how  she  was 
brought  up  in  the  Gerano's  house,  and  I  should  never 
have  thought  of  marrying  her,  but  for  Uncle  Herbert's 
money." 

"  You  would  both  have  been  perfectly  happy  on  a  hun 
dred  a  year,"  observed  Pietro.  "People  are  when  they 
love  each  other  as  you  do." 

Arden's  face  softened  at  once,  and  Ghisleri  saw  that 
he  was  thinking  of  his  wife.  He  was  silent  for  a  few 
moments. 

"That  is  all  very  well,"  he  said,  suddenly  rousing 
himself  again.  "That  might  do  so  long  as  I  should  be 
there  to  make  life  smooth  for  her.  But  when  she  is  left 
alone  —  especially  here  —  Ghisleri,  I  do  not  like  to  think 
that  she  must  live  here  after  I  am  gone  —  " 

"For  Heaven's  sake  do  not  begin  to  talk  in  that  way, 
Arden!  It  is  perfectly  absurd.  You  only  have  a  cold, 
after  all!" 

"Perhaps  so.  I  believe  I  have  something  worse. 
Never  mind !  I  was  saying  that  I  could  not  bear  to  think 
of  her  living  here  without  me.  It  is  quite  true.  No  — 
it  is  not  sentiment  —  something  much  more  reasonable 
and  real.  There  are  people  here  who  hate  us  both,  who 
positively  hate  us,  and  who  will  make  her  life  unbearable 
when  there  is  no  one  to  protect  her  —  the  more  so,  if  she 
is  poor.  And  besides,  you  know  what  will  happen  before 
long  —  oh,  I  cannot  think  of  it !  " 

Ghisleri  did  not  answer  at  once,  for  it  was  not  clear 
to  him  how  Arden  had  discovered  that  he  had  enemies. 
But  the  latter  waited  for  no  answer,  and  went  on  after  a 
few  seconds,  still  speaking  excitedly. 

"You  see,"  he  said,  "how  necessary  it  is  that  Harry 


128  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

should  come  —  that  you  should  write  to  him  —  that  he 
should  be  made  to  understand  —  he  must  do  something 
for  Laura,  Ghisleri  —  he  really  must." 

There  was  something  painful  in  the  persistent  repeti 
tion  of  the  thought,  and  then,  oddly  enough,  Pietro  started 
as  he  heard  his  own  name  pronounced  almost  without  an 
interval,  immediately  after  that  of  Laura.  It  sounded 
very  strangely  —  Laura  Ghisleri  —  he  had  never  thought 
of  it  before.  A  moment  later  he  scorned  himself  for 
thinking  of  it  at  all. 

"My  dear  Arden,"  he  said,  "you  are  really  making 
yourself  ill  about  nothing.  Put  it  all  out  of  your  mind 
for  the  present,  and  remember  that  I  am  always  ready  if 
you  need  anything.  You  have  only  to  send  for  me,  and 
besides,  I  shall  come  every  day  until  you  are  quite  well." 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear  fellow,  you  are  a  good  friend. 
Perhaps  you  are  right.  But  as  I  lie  here,  thinking  of  all 
the  possibilities  —  " 

"You  are  beginning  again,"  interrupted  Ghisleri.  "I 
must  go  away  or  you  will  talk  yourself  into  a  fever." 

At  that  moment  Laura  re-entered  the  room.  She  started 
a  little  when  she  saw  her  husband's  face. 

"How  do  you  find  him?"  she  asked  quickly  of  Ghis 
leri. 

"  He  has  a  cold, "  answered  the  latter,  cheerfully,  "  and 
perhaps -there  is  a  little  fever  with  it.  I  am  going  to 
leave  him,  for  he  ought  to  keep  quiet  and  not  tire  himself 
with  too  much  talking." 

He  shook  hands  with  Arden.  Laura  followed  him  out 
into  the  passage  beyond. 

"  He  is  very  ill !  "  she  exclaimed,  in  a  low  voice,  touch 
ing  his  sleeve  in  her  excitement.  "I  can  see  it.  He 
never  looked  like  that." 

"It  may  not  be  anything  serious,"  answered  Ghisleri. 
"But  he  ought  to  see  the  doctor  at  once.  I  have  a  cab 
down  stairs,  and  I  will  go  and  find  him  and  bring  him 
here.  Keep  him  quiet;  do  not  let  him  talk." 

"Yes.     You  are  so  kind." 


PIETEO   GHISLERI.  129 

She  left  him  and  went  back  to  Arden's  bedside.  He 
was  tossing  uneasily  as  though  he  could  not  find  rest  in 
any  position,  and  the  great  round  spots  on  his  cheeks 
had  deepened  almost  to  a  purple  colour.  He  scarcely 
seemed  to  notice  her  entrance,  but  as  she  turned  to  move 
something  on  the  table,  after  smoothing  his  pillow,  he 
caught  her  suddenly  by  the  skirt  of  her  frock. 

"  Laura!  Laura!  do  not  go  away !  "  he  cried.  "  Do  not 
leave  me  alone." 

"No,  love,  I  am  not  going,"  she  answered  gently,  and 
sat  down  by  his  side. 

Ghisleri  was  not  gone  long.  By  a  mere  chance  he 
found  the  doctor  at  home,  and  brought  him  back.  Then 
he  waited  in  the  drawing-room  to  hear  the  result  of  the 
visit.  The  physician's  face  was  graver  when  he  returned, 
and  Laura  was  not  with  him. 

"Is  it  anything  serious?"  asked  Ghisleri. 

"  I  am  afraid  so.  I  shall  be  better  able  to  tell  in  a 
couple  of  hours.  The  fever  is  very  high,  the  other  symp 
toms  will  develop  before  long,  and  we  shall  know  what 
it  is." 

"What  do  you  think  it  might  be?" 

"It  might  be  scarlet  fever,"  answered  the  doctor.  "I 
am  afraid  it  is.  But  say  nothing  at  present.  You  should 
get  a  nurse  at  once,  for  some  one  must  sit  up  with  him 
all  night.  I  will  send  him  something  to  take  immedi 
ately,  and  I  will  come  back  myself  in  about  two  hours." 

They  went  away  together,  but  when  the  doctor  returned, 
he  found  Ghisleri  waiting  for  him  in  the  street.  It  was 
now  five  o'clock  and  quite  dark.  Pietro  remained  down 
stairs  while  the  visit  lasted. 

"  Well?  "  he  asked,  when  the  physician  came  down  again. 

"  It  is  scarlet  fever,  as  I  was  afraid  —  one  of  the  most 
sudden  cases  I  ever  knew.  They  have  not  got  a  nurse 
yet,  the  idea  seems  to  frighten  Lady  Herbert. " 

"I  will  see  to  it,"  said  Ghisleri.  "By  the  bye,  it  is 
contagious,  is  it  not?  I  have  a  visit  to  pay  before  dinner; 
ought  I  to  change  my  clothes?  " 

K 


130  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

The  doctor  smiled.  He  did  not  know  Ghisleri,  and 
fancied  that  he  might  be  timid. 

"It  is  not  contagious  yet,"  he  answered,  "or  hardly  at 
all.  I  do  not  think  there  is  any  danger." 

"There  might  be  a  little  —  even  a  very  little,  you 
think?"  asked  Pietro,  insisting. 

"  Of  course  it  can  do  no  harm  to  change  one's  clothes," 
replied  the  other,  somewhat  surprised. 

"  You  have  told  Lady  Herbert  exactly  what  must  be 
done,  I  suppose.  In  that  case  I  shall  not  go  up." 

The  doctor  was  confirmed  in  his  suspicion  that  Ghisleri 
was  afraid  of  catching  the  fever,  and  got  into  his  carriage, 
musing  on  the  deceptive  nature  of  appearances.  Pietro 
wrote  a  few  words  on  his  card,  telling  Laura  that  he 
would  be  back  before  dinner  time  with  the  best  nurse  to 
be  found,  and  sent  it  up  by  the  porter.  Then  he  drove 
home  as  quickly  as  possible,  dressed  himself  entirely 
afresh,  and  went  to  see  the  Contessa  dell'  Armi. 

"I  have  come,"  he  said,  after  the  first  greeting,  "to 
tell  you  that  you  will  not  see  me  for  several  days.  Arden 
has  got  the  scarlet  fever,  and  I  shall  be  there  taking 
care  of  him,  more  or  less,  until  he  is  out  of  danger." 

"  Can  they  not  have  a  nurse  for  him?  "  asked  Madda- 
lena,  raising  her  eyebrows. 

"  There  will  be  a  nurse,  too.  I  am  going  to  get  one 
now  and  take  her  there." 

"You  do  not  seem  anxious  to  consult  me  in  the  least," 
said  the  Contessa.  "You  never  do  nowadays." 

"What  do  you  mean?  Do  you  think  this  is  a  case  of 
consulting  any  one?  I  do  not  understand." 

"  Do  you  think  you  have  any  right  to  risk  your  life  in 
this  way?  Do  you  think  you  contribute  to  my  happiness 
by  doing  it?  And  yet  I  have  heard  you  say  that  my 
happiness  is  first  in  your  thoughts.  Not  that  I  ever 
believed  it." 

"  You  are  wrong, "  answered  Ghisleri,  gently.  "  I  would 
do  almost  anything  for  you." 

"  What  a  clever  reservation  —  'almost '  anything.    You 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  131 

know  that  if  you  did  not  put  it  in  that  way,  I  should  tell 
you  not  to  go  near  the  Ardens  until  there  is  no  danger  of 
catching  the  fever." 

"Of  course,"  assented  Pietro. 

"  You  ought  not  to  be  so  diplomatic.  You  used  to  talk 
very  differently.  Do  you  remember  that  evening  by  the 
waterfall  at  Vallombrosa?  You  have  changed  since  then. " 

Her  classic  face  began  to  harden  in  the  way  he  knew 
so  well. 

"There  is  no  question  of  diplomacy,"  he  said  quietly. 
"  Arden  has  been  my  friend  these  ten  years,  and  he  is  in 
very  great  danger.  I  mean  to  take  care  of  him  as  long 
as  I  am  needed  because  I  do  not  trust  nurses,  and  because 
Lady  Herbert  is  anything  but  strong  herself  at  the  pres 
ent  time,  and  may  break  down  or  lose  her  head.  As 
for  risking  my  life,  there  is  no  risk  at  all  in  the  matter. 
I  have  very  little  belief  in  contagion,  though  the  doctors 
talk  about  it." 

"I  suppose  you  have  just  seen  him,"  observed  the 
Contessa,  who  was  determined  to  find  fault.  "  You  do 
not  seem  to  ask  yourself  whether  I  share  your  disbelief." 

"  Since  you  ask,"  said  Ghisleri,  with  a  smile,  "I  admit 
that  I  changed  my  clothes  before  coming  to  see  you,  for 
that  very  reason.  Some  people  do  believe  in  danger  of 
that  kind." 

"  I  am  glad  you  admit  it.  So  I  am  not  to  see  you  until 
Lord  Herbert  is  quite  well  again.  I  will  not  answer  for 
the  consequences.  I  have  something  to  say  to  you  to-day. 
Are  you  in  a  hurry?  " 

"Not  in  the  least." 

"It  will  not  take  long.  I  have  discovered  another 
proof  of  your  desertion.  You  know  what  pleasant  things 
Adele  Savelli  says  about  me  —  and  you,  too.  I  have  told 
you  more  than  once  exactly  what  was  repeated  to  me. 
Did  you  ever  take  any  steps  to  prevent  her  talking  about 
me?" 

"No,  I  never  did.  I  do  not  even  see  how  I  could. 
Can  I  quarrel  with  Francesco  Savelli,  because  his  wife 


132  PIETEO   GHISLERI. 

spreads  scandalous  reports  about  you?  It  would  look 
singularly  like  fighting  your  battles." 

"And  yet,"  retorted  the  Contessa,  speaking  slowly, 
and  fixing  her  eyes  on  his,  "there  is  no  sooner  something 
said  against  Lady  Herbert  Arden,  than  you  show  your 
teeth  and  fight  in  earnest.  Can  you  deny  it?  " 

"No,  I  do  not  lie,"  answered  Ghisleri.  "But  I  did 
not  know  that  you  were  aware  of  the  fact.  Some  one 
has  been  indiscreet,  as  usual." 

"  Of  course.  That  sort  of  thing  cannot  be  a  secret  long. 
All  Rome  knows  that  there  was  a  dinner  of  reconciliation 
at  the  Palazzo  Savelli  last  night,  that  every  one  embraced 
every  one  else,  that  Adele  looks  like  death  to-day,  and  is 
going  about  everywhere  saying  the  most  delightful  things 
about  the  Ardens,  in  the  most  horribly  nervous  way.  You 
see  what  power  you  have  when  you  choose  to  use  it." 

She  spoke  bitterly,  though  she  was  conscious  that  the 
right  was  not  all  on  her  side,  and  that  Ghisleri,  as  he 
said,  could  defend  the  Ardens  without  fear  of  adverse 
criticism,  whereas  it  would  be  a  very  different  matter  if 
he  entered  the  lists  in  her  defence. 

"You  are  not  quite  just  to  me,  my  dear  lady,"  he  said, 
after  a  moment's  reflection.  "You  are  not  the  wife  of 
my  old  friend,  and  an  otherwise  indifferent  person  —  " 

"Quite  indifferent?"     She  looked  keenly  at  him. 

"Quite,"  he  answered,  with  perfect  sincerity.  "A 
person  is  indifferent  whom  one  neither  loves  nor  calls  an 
intimate  friend.  Yet  Lady  Herbert  is  beautiful  and  good, 
and  is  admirable  in  many  ways.  But  the  world  knows 
that  I  am  no  more  in  love  with  her  than  with  Donna 
Adele,  and  I  am  quite  free,  therefore,  to  defend  her." 

"  Of  course  you  are.  The  only  thing  that  surprises  me 
is  your  alacrity  in  doing  so.  You  do  not  generally  like 
to  give  yourself  trouble  for  indifferent  people.  But  then, 
as  Arden  really  is  your  friend  —  "  She  stopped,  with  a 
little  impatient  movement  of  the  shoulders. 

"  I  wish  you  could  bring  yourself  for  once  to  believe 
that  I  am  not  altogether  insincere  and  calculating  in 


PIETEO   GHISLERI.  133 

everything  I  do, "  said  Ghisleri,  weary  of  her  perpetual 
suspicion. 

"  I  wish  I  could,"  she  answered  coldly.  "  But  how  can 
I?  There  are  such  extraordinary  inconsistencies  in  your 
character,  such  contradictions  —  it  is  very  hard  to  believe 
in  you.  And  yet, "  she  added  sadly,  "  God  knows  I  must 
—  for  my  own  sake." 

"  Then  do !  "  exclaimed  Pietro,  with  energy.  "  Make 
an  end  of  all  this  doubting.  Have  I  ever  lied  to  you? 
Have  I  ever  made  a  promise  to  you  and  not  kept  it? 
How  have  I  deceived  you?  And  yet  you  never  trust  me 
altogether,  and  I  know  it." 

"  It  is  not  that  —  it  is  not  that !  "  repeated  Maddalena. 
"  What  you  say  is  all  true,  in  its  way.  It  is  —  how  shall 
I  say  it  —  you  did  not  deceive  me,  but  I  was  deceived  in 
you.  You  are  not  what  I  thought  you  were.  You  used 
to  say  that  you  would  stand  at  nothing  —  that  my  word 
was  your  law  —  all  those  fine  phrases  you  used  to  make 
to  me,  and  they  all  seem  to  come  to  nothing  when  reality 
begins." 

"  If  you  would  tell  me  what  you  expect  me  to  do,  you 
would  not  find  me  slow  in  doing  it." 

"  That  is  the  thing.  If  you  loved  me  as  you  say  you 
do,  would  you  need  any  direction?  Your  heart  would 
tell  you." 

"  You  are  angry  with  me  now,  because  you  do  not  wish 
me  to  take  care  of  Arden  —  " 

"  Can  I  wish  that  you  should  be  willing  to  cut  yourself 
off  from  me  for  a  week  —  or  two  weeks?  I  suppose  that 
is  your  idea  of  love.  It  is  not  mine." 

"  Then  be  frank  in  your  turn.  You  have  the  right  to 
ask  what  you  please  of  me.  Say  plainly  that  you  wish 
me  to  give  up  the  idea,  to  leave  Arden  to  the  doctors  and 
the  nurses,  and  I  will  obey  you  unhesitatingly." 

"  I  would  not  have  the  sacrifice  now  —  not  as  a  gift, " 
murmured  Maddalena,  passionately.  "  If  you  could  think 
of  doing  it,  you  shall  do  it.  I  will  force  you  to  it  now. 
I  will  not  see  you  until  Arden  does  not  need  you  any 


134  PIETEO   GHISLERI. 

more  —  not  even  if  you  never  go  near  him.  If  you  do 
not  think  of  me  naturally,  I  would  rather  that  you  should 
never  think  of  me  again." 

Ghisleri  rose  and  went  to  the  fireplace,  and  looked  at 
the  objects  on  the  mantelpiece  for  a  long  time,  without 
seeing  them.  There  was  a  strange  conflict  in  his  heart 
at  that  moment.  He  could  not  tell  whether  he  loved  her 
or  not  —  that  he  had  loved  her  a  very  short  time  since, 
he  was  sure.  At  the  present  juncture  it  would  be  very 
easy  to  tell  her  the  truth,  if  his  love  were  no  longer  real, 
and  to  break  with  her  once  and  for  ever.  Did  she  love 
him  ?  Cruelly  and  coldly  he  compared  her  love  with  that 
of  another  whom  he  had  sacrificed  long  ago  —  a  memory 
that  haunted  him  still  at  times.  That  had  been  love 
indeed.  Was  this  also  love,  but  of  another  kind?  Then, 
suddenly,  he  despised  himself  for  his  fickleness,  and  he 
thought  of  what  Maddalena  had  done  and  risked  for  him, 
and  for  him  alone. 

"Maddalena,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  shook  as  he  came 
to  her  side,  and  took  her  small  white  hand.  "  Forgive 
me,  forgive  me  all  there  is  to  forgive.  I  am  a  brute 
sometimes.  I  cannot  help  it." 

Her  lip  trembled  a  little,  but  her  face  did  not  relax. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  forgive,"  she  said.  "  It  is  I  who 
have  been  mistaken." 


CHAPTER  X. 

GHISLERI  left  the  Contessa's  house  anything  but  calm. 
To  hate  himself  and  the  whole  world  in  general,  with 
one  or  two  unvarying  exceptions,  was  by  no  means  a  new 
sensation.  He  was  quite  familiar  with  it  and  looked 
upon  it  as  a  necessary  condition  of  mind,  through  which 
he  must  pass  from  time  to  time,  and  from  which  he  was 
never  very  far  removed.  But  he  had  rarely,  in  his  ever- 
changing  life,  been  in  such  strange  perturbation  of  spirit 


METRO   GHISLERI.  135 

as  on  this  particular  evening.  He  was  almost  beyond 
reasoning,  and  he  seemed  to  be  staring  at  the  facts  that 
faced  him  in  a  day-dream  horribly  like  reality.  He 
knew  that  if  he  really  loved  Maddalena,  he  would 
sacrifice  his  friend,  even  after  what  the  Contessa  had 
said,  and  that,  after  a  day  or  two,  she  would  probably 
relent.  Nor  did  the  sacrifice  seem  a  very  great  one. 
People  were  ill  all  the  year  round,  were  taken  care  of  by 
the  members  of  their  own  family  and  by  nurses,  and 
recovered  or  died  as  the  case  might  be.  He  had  no 
especial  knowledge  to  help  him  in  watching  over  Herbert 
Arden,  though  he  believed  himself  quiet  and  skilful  in  a 
sick-room,  and  had  more  than  once  done  what  he  could 
in  such  cases.  He  felt,  indeed,  that  he  was  more  deeply 
attached  to  the  man  than  he  had  supposed  himself  to  be, 
but  he  had  not  imagined  that,  at  the  critical  moment, 
that  attachment  would  outweigh  all  consideration  for 
Maddalena  dell'  Armi.  And  yet,  he  not  only  clung  to 
the  belief  that  he  loved  her,  but  was  conscious  that  there 
was  a  broad  foundation  of  truth  for  that  belief  to  rest 
upon.  He  asked  himself  in  vain  why  he  was  at  that 
moment  going  from  her  house  to  Arden' s,  and  he  found 
no  answer.  That  Laura  herself  contributed  in  any  way 
to  strengthen  his  resolve  was  too  monstrous  to  be 
believed,  even  by  himself,  against  himself.  He  was  not 
so  bad  as  that  yet.  He  laughed  bitterly  at  his  inability 
to  comprehend  his  own  motives  and  impulses,  as  he 
drove  to  the  little  convent  of  the  French  Sisters  of  the 
"  Bon  Secours,"  to  ask  for  the  best  nurse  they  could  give 
him.  It  was  strange,  too,  that  he  should  be  coming 
directly  from  Maddalena's  side  to  the  habitation  of  a 
community  of  almost  saintly  women  —  stranger  still,  that 
he  should  be  on  his  way  to  a  house  where,  during  the 
next  few  days,  he  expected  to  spend  his  time  in  the 
society  of  a  woman  who  ranked  even  higher  than  they 
in  his  exalted  estimate  of  her  character. 

He  got  the   nurse,  and   she  was  despatched  in   the 
company   of    another    sister   in   a   separate    cab,    while 


136  PIETKO   GHISLERI. 

Ghis'Ieri  followed  in  his  own.  When  they  reached  the 
house,  they  found  that  Arden  was  much  worse.  His 
mind  was  wandering,  and,  though  he  constantly  called 
for  Laura,  he  did  not  know  her  when  she  came  to  his 
side,  trying  to  keep  back  the  scalding  tears,  lest  they 
should  fall  on  him  as  she  bent  down  to  catch  his  words. 
The  doctor  had  been  sent  for  a  third  time  in  great  haste. 
Meanwhile,  the  sister  went  about  her  duties  silently  and 
systematically,  making  herself  thoroughly  familiar  with 
the  arrangements  of  the  room,  and  preparing  all  that 
could  be  needed  during  the  night,  so  far  as  she  could 
foresee  the  doctor's  possible  instructions.  She  smoothed 
Arden's  pillows  with  a  hand  the  practised  perfection  of 
whose  touch  told  a  wonderful  tale  of  life-long  labour 
among  the  sick. 

"  Madame  should  not  be  here,"  she  said  to  Ghisleri,  in 
a  quiet,  even  voice.  "  It  may  soon  be  contagious." 

Laura  heard  the  words  as  she  stood  on  the  other  side 
of  the  bed,  watching  every  passing  expression  on  Arden's 
flushed  face. 

"  I  will  not  leave  him,"  she  said  simply. 

The  sister  did  not  answer.  She  had  done  her  duty  in 
giving  the  warning,  and  she  could  do  no  more.  When 
she  had  finished  all  her  arrangements,  she  sat  down, 
accustomed  to  husband  her  strength  always,  against  the 
strain  that  must  inevitably  fall  upon  it  day  by  day. 
She  took  out  her  small  black  book  and  began  to  read, 
glancing  at  Arden  at  regular  intervals  of  about  a  minute. 

Ghisleri  entreated  Laura  to  take  some  rest,  or  at  least 
to  follow  the  sister's  example  and  sit  down,  since  nothing 
could  be  done.  She  did  not  seem  to  understand.  He 
was  glad  he  had  come,  for  he  fancied  she  was  losing  her 
head  already.  He  stood  beside  her  watching  his  friend 
and  waiting  for  the  doctor,  who  appeared  before  long. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  most  extraordinarily  virulent  cases  I 
ever  knew,"  he  said  to  Ghisleri,  when  the  two  were  alone 
together  in  the  drawing-room,  for  Laura  would  not  leave 
her  husband's  side  for  a  moment.  "  I  hardly  know 


PIETKO   GHISLEKI.  137 

what  to  make  of  it,  though  of  course  there  can  be  no 
doubt  as  to  what  it  is.  It  is  better  that  you  should  know 
how  serious  the  case  is.  I  presume  you  are  an  intimate 
friend  of  Lord  Herbert  Arden's  ?  " 

"Yes,  an  old  friend." 

"  And  you  are  not  afraid  of  catching  the  fever  ? " 
asked  the  doctor. 

"  Not  in  the  least." 

"  Oh,  I  thought  from  a  question  you  asked — "  He 
hesitated. 

"  I  was  going  to  see  a  friend,  and  I  wanted  to  be  on 
the  safe  side,"  said  Ghisleri. 

"  I  am  glad  of  that ;  it  is  just  as  well  that  there  should 
be  a  man  at  hand.  Shall  you  spend  the  night  here  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Ghisleri. 

"  Very  good.  I  have  told  the  sister  to  send  for  me 
if  the  temperature  rises  more  than  two-tenths  of  a  degree 
centigrade  higher  than  it  is  now.  It  ought  to  go  down. 
If  I  am  called  anywhere  I  will  leave  the  address  at 
my  lodgings,  where  one  of  my  servants  will  sit  up  all 
night.  I  confess  that  I  am  surprised  by  the  case.  In 
Rome  the  scarlet  fever  is  rarely  so  dangerous." 

Thereupon  the  doctor  took  his  leave  and  Ghisleri 
remained  alone  in  the  drawing-room.  He  sat  down  and 
took  up  a  book.  For  the  present  it  seemed  best  not  to 
go  back  to  Arden's  room.  His  constant  presence  might 
be  disagreeable  to  Laura,  since  she  could  not  be  induced 
to  leave  her  husband  as  yet.  Ghisleri's  turn  would  come 
when  she  was  exhausted,  or  when  he  had  an  opportunity 
of  persuading  her  to  take  some  rest.  Until  then  there  was 
nothing  to  be  done  but  to  wait.  A  servant  came  in  and 
put  wood  on  the  fire  and  turned  down  a  lamp  that  was 
smoking  a  little.  He  inquired  of  Ghisleri  whether  her 
ladyship  would  wish  any  dinner  served,  and  Pietro  told 
him  to  keep  something  in  readiness  in  case  she  should 
be  hungry.  He  himself  rarely  had  much  appetite,  and 
to-night  he  had  none  at  all.  He  tried  to  read,  without 
much  success,  for  his  own  thoughts  crowded  upon  each 


138  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

other  so  quickly  and  tumultuously  that  he  found  it  im 
possible  to  concentrate  his  attention. 

The  clocks  struck  half-past  eight,  nine,  ten,  and  half- 
past  ten,  and  still  he  sat  motionless  in  his  place.  Again 
the  Italian  servant  came  in,  put  wood  on  the  fire  and 
looked  to  the  lamps.  Did  the  Signore  know  what 
orders  were  to  be  given  for  the  night?  The  Signore 
did  not  know,  as  her  ladyship  was  still  with  his  lordship, 
and  was  not  to  be  disturbed,  but  some  food  must  be  kept 
ready  in  case  she  needed  it.  Eleven,  half-past,  twelve. 
Again  the  door  opened.  There  was  something  awful  in 
the  monotony  of  it  all,  Ghisleri  thought,  but  this  time 
Donald  appeared  instead  of  the  Italian,  who  had  been 
sent  to  bed.  After  making  very  much  the  same  inquiries 
as  the  latter,  Donald  paused. 

"His  lordship  is  very  ill,  sir,  as  I  understand,"  he 
said.  He  had  known  Ghisleri  as  his  master's  friend  for 
years. 

"Yes,  Donald,  he  is  very  ill,"  answered  Ghisleri, 
gravely.  "  It  is  scarlet  fever,  the  doctor  says.  We  must 
all  help  to  take  care  of  him." 

"Yes,  sir." 

The  few  insignificant  words  exchanged  with  the  servant 
seemed  to  rouse  Ghisleri  from  the  reverie  in  which  he 
had  sat  so  many  hours.  When  Donald  was  gone  he 
rose  from  the  chair  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the 
drawing-room.  The  inaction  was  irksome,  and  he  longed 
to  be  of  use.  He  would  have  gone  to  Arden's  room,  but 
he  fancied  it  would  be  better  to  let  Laura  stay  there 
without  him,  until  she  was  very  tired,  and  then  to  take 
her  place.  She  would  be  more  likely  to  rest  if  she  had 
a  long  watch  at  first,  he  thought.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  an 
odd  sort  of  delicacy  influenced  him,  too,  almost  without 
his  knowing  it,  —  an  undefined  instinct  which  made  him 
leave  her  with  the  man  she  so  dearly  loved  in  the 
presence  only  of  a  stranger  and  a  woman,  rather  than 
intrude  himself  as  the  third  person  and  the  witness  of 
her  anxiety. 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  139 

As  he  turned  for  the  fiftieth  time  in  his  short,  monoto 
nous  walk,  he  saw  Laura  entering  at  the  opposite  end  of 
the  room.  She  was  dressed  all  in  white,  in  a  loose  robe 
of  some  soft  and  warm  material,  gathered  about  the 
waist  and  hanging  in  straight  folds.  Her  heavy  black 
hair  was  fastened  in  a  great  knot,  low  at  the  back  of  her 
head.  The  light  fell  full  upon  her  pale  face  and  deep, 
dark  eyes  as  she  caught  sight  of  Ghisleri,  and  stood  still 
at  the  door,  her  hand  upon  the  curtain  as  she  thrust  it 
aside  from  before  her.  She  was  so  really  beautiful  at 
that  moment  that  Pietro  started  and  stared  at  her. 

"  I  did  not  know  you  were  here,"  she  said  softly.  He 
came  forward  to  meet  her. 

"I  will  take  my  turn  when  you  are  willing  to  go  and 
rest,"  he  answered.  "  I  have  waited  for  that  reason.  How 
is  he  now  ?  " 

"Much  more  quiet,"  answered  Laura.  "The  sister 
persuaded  me  that  my  being  there  perhaps  prevented  his 
going  to  sleep,  and  so  I  came  away.  She  will  call  me  if 
there  is  any  change.  Oh  !  if  he  could  only  sleep  !  " 

Ghisleri  knew  how  very  improbable  such  a  fortunate 
circumstance  was  at  the  outset  of  such  a  severe  illness, 
but  he  said  nothing  about  it.  Any  idea  which  could  give 
Laura  hope  was  good  in  itself.  She  sank  into  a  deep 
chair  by  the  fire  and  watched  the  flames,  her  chin  resting 
on  her  hand.  She  seemed  almost  unconscious  of  Ghis- 
leri's  presence  as  he  stood  leaning  against  the  mantel 
piece  and  looking  down  at  her. 

"  I  will  go  and  see  how  he  is,"  he  said  at  last,  and  went 
towards  the  door.  Just  as  he  touched  the  handle  she 
called  him  in  an  odd  tone  as  though  she  were  startled  by 
something. 

"Signor  Ghisleri!     Please  come  back." 

He  obeyed,  and  resumed  his  former  attitude. 

"I  am  very  nervous,"  she  said,  with  a  little  shiver. 
"Please  do  not  leave  me  —  I  —  I  am  afraid  to  be  alone. 
If  you  wish  to  go,  we  will  go  together." 

Ghisleri  concealed  his  surprise,  which  was  considerable. 


140  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

The  wish  she  expressed  was  very  foreign  to  her  usually 
quiet  and  collected  nature.  He  saw  that  her  nerves 
were  rudely  shaken. 

"  It  is  very  weak  of  me,"  she  said  presently,  in  an  apo 
logetic  tone.  "  But  I  see  his  face  all  the  time,  and  I  hear 
that  dreadful  wandering  talk  —  I  cannot  bear  it." 

"  I  do  not  wonder,"  answered  Pietro,  quietly.  "  You 
must  be  very  tired,  too.  Will  you  not  lie  down  on  the 
sofa,  while  I  sit  here  and  wait  ?  It  would  be  so  much 
better.  You  will  need  your  strength  to-morrow." 

"  That  is  true,"  she  said,  as  though  struck  by  the  truth 
of  the  last  words. 

She  crossed  the  room  and  lay  down  upon  a  large  sofa  at 
a  little  distance  from  the  fire,  arranged  the  folds  of  her 
dress  with  that  modest,  womanly  dignity  some  women 
liave  in  their  smallest  actions,  clasped  her  hands,  and 
closed  her  eyes.  Pietra  sat  down  and  looked  at  her, 
musing  over  the  strange  combination  of  circumstances 
which  formed  themselves  in  his  life.  It  seemed  odd  that 
he  should  be  where  he  was,  towards  the  small  hours  of 
the  morning,  watching  over  one  of  the  women  he  admired 
most  in  the  world,  keeping  his  place  at  her  especial  re 
quest,  when  he  had  in  reality  come  to  help  in  taking  care 
of  her  husband.  How  the  world  would  wag  its  head  and 
talk,  he  thought,  if  it  could  guess  where  he  was ! 

For  a  long  time  Laura  did  not  move,  and  he  was  sure 
that  she  was  still  awake.  Then,  all  at  once,  he  saw  her 
hands  relax  and  loosen  from  each  other,  her  head  turned 
a  little  on  the  dark  velvet  cushion,  and  she  sighed  as  she 
sank  to  sleep.  She  was  less  quiet  after  that.  Her  lips 
moved,  and  she  stirred  uneasily  from  time  to  time,  evi 
dently  dreaming  over  again  the  painful  scenes  of  the 
evening.  Ghisleri  rang  the  bell,  crossed  the  room  swiftly, 
and  opened  the  door  without  noise.  Donald  appeared  in 
the  hall  outside. 

"Her  ladyship  has  fallen  asleep  on  the  sofa,"  said 
Pietro.  "  She  does  not  wish  to  be  left  alone.  Is  there 
any  woman  servant  awake  in  the  house  ?  " 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  141 

"  No,  sir.     Her  ladyship  sent  her  maid  to  bed." 

"  Never  mind.  Go  and  sit  quietly  in  the  drawing-room, 
in  case  she  should  need  anything,  while  I  go  and  see  how 
Lord  Herbert  is." 

"  Very  good,  sir." 

The  world  would  have  been  even  more  surprised  now 
than  before,  especially  if  it  could  have  understood  the 
meaning  of  what  G-hisleri  did,  and  the  refined  reverence 
implied  in  his  unwillingness  to  remain  in  the  drawing- 
room  longer  than  necessary.  It  would  not  have  believed 
in  his  motive,  and  it  would  have  added  that  he  was  very 
foolish  not  to  enjoy  the  artistic  pleasure  of  watching  over 
the  beautiful  woman  in  her  sleep  as  long  as  he  could, 
more  especially  as  she  had  gone  to  the  length  of  asking 
him  to  do  so.  But  Ghisleri  thought  very  differently. 

He  entered  the  sick-room,  and  sat  down  by  the  bedside. 
Arden  was  in  a  restless  state  between  waking  and  uncon 
sciousness,  moaning  aloud  without  articulating  any  words, 
his  face  flushed  to  a  deep  purple  hue,  his  eyes  half  open 
and  turned  up  under  the  lids,  so  that  only  the  white  was 
visible.  The  sister  was  seated  by  the  table,  on  which 
stood  a  small  lamp,  the  light  being  screened  from  Arden 
by  a  makeshift  consisting  of  the  cover  of  a  bandbox 
supported  by  a  few  heavy  books.  When  Ghisleri  had  en 
tered  she  had  glanced  at  him,  and  explained  by  a  sign 
that  there  was  no  change.  Neither  he  nor  she  thought 
of  speaking  during  the  hour  that  followed.  The  sister 
had  a  watch  before  her  on  the  table,  and  at  regular  inter 
vals  she  rose,  poured  a  spoonful  of  something  into  Arden's 
mouth,  smoothed  his  pillow,  saw  that  he  was  as  comfort 
able  as  he  could  be,  and  went  back  to  her  seat.  At  the 
end  of  the  hour  she  took  Arden's  temperature  with  the 
fever  thermometer,  and  wrote  down  the  result  on  a  sheet 
of  paper.  It  had  fallen  one-tenth  of  a  degree  since 
midnight. 

"  It  generally  does  towards  morning,"  said  the  sister,  in 
a  low  voice,  in  answer  to  Ghisleri's  inquiry  as  to  whether 
this  was  a  really  favourable  symptom  of  a  change  for  the 
better. 


142  PIETRO    GHISLEUI. 

The  night  passed  wearily.  Pietro  felt  that  he  was  of 
little  use,  unless  his  presence  in  the  house  afforded  Laura 
some  sort  of  moral  support.  So  far  as  the  nursing  was 
concerned,  the  sister  neither  needed  nor  expected  any 
assistance.  Towards  five  o'clock,  Laura  entered  the  room. 
On  waking  from  her  sleep,  she  had  seen  Donald  seated  in 
Ghisleri's  place,  and  had  wondered  why  the  latter  had 
gone  away. 

"He  seems  better,"  she  whispered,  bending  over  her 
husband,  and  softly  smoothing  the  thick  brown  hair  from 
his  forehead. 

"  The  temperature  has  fallen,"  answered  Ghisleri,  giv 
ing  her  the  only  encouragement  he  could. 

"  Thank  God !  "  Laura  sat  down  by  the  opposite  side 
of  the  bed.  Presently,  by  a  sign,  she  asked  Ghisleri 
whether  he  would  not  go  home. 

"I  will  wait  in  the  drawing-room  until  the  doctor 
comes,  and  the  other  sister  has  arrived  for  the  day,"  he 
said,  coming  to  her  side. 

She  merely  nodded,  and  he  quietly  went  out.  Before 
long,  Donald  brought  him  some  coffee,  and  he  sat  where 
he  had  sat  in  the  early  part  of  the  night,  anxiously  await 
ing  the  doctor's  coming. 

There  was  little  enough  to  be  learned,  when  the  latter 
actually  came.  A  very  bad  case,  he  said,  so  bad  that  he 
would  not  be  averse  to  asking  the  opinion  of  a  colleague, 
—  and  later,  the  same  colleague  came,  saw  Arden,  shook 
his  head,  and  said  that  it  was  the  worst  case  he  had  ever 
seen,  but  that  the  treatment  so  far  was  perfectly  correct. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  done,  but  to  take  the  best  care 
possible  of  the  patient.  Ghisleri  had  no  hope  whatever, 
and  Laura  became  almost  totally  silent.  She  could  not  be 
paler  than  she  was,  but  Pietro  almost  fancied  that  she 
was  growing  hourly  thinner,  while  the  sad  eyes  seemed  to 
sink  deeper  and  deeper  beneath  the  marble  brow.  He 
went  home  for  a  few  hours  to  dress,  and  returned  at  mid 
day.  The  loss  of  one  night's  rest  had  not  even  told  upon 
his  face,  but  his  expression  was  grave  and  reserved  in  the 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  143 

extreme,  and  his  manner  even  more  than  usually  quiet. 
Laura  had  not  slept  since  her  nap  in  the  drawing-room, 
and  looked  exhausted,  though  she  was  not  yet  really 
tired  out.  G-hisleri  thought  it  was  time  to  speak  seri 
ously  to  her. 

"My  dear  Lady  Herbert/'  he  said,  "forgive  me  for 
being  quite  frank.  This  is  not  a  time  for  turning  phrases. 
You  must  positively  rest,  or  you  will  break  down  and 
you  may  be  dangerously  ill  yourself." 

"I  do  not  feel  tired,"  she  said. 

"Your  nerves  keep  you  up.  I  entreat  you  to  think  of 
what  I  say,  and  I  must  say  it.  You  may  risk  your  own 
life,  if  you  please;  it  is  natural  that  you  should  run 
at  least  the  risk  of  contagion,  but  you  have  no  right  to 
risk  another  life  than  your  own  by  uselessly  wearing  out 
your  strength.  Besides,  Arden  is  unconscious  now; 
when  he  begins  to  recover  he  will  need  you  far  more,  and 
will  not  need  me  at  all." 

A  very  slight  blush  rose  in  Laura's  pale  cheeks,  and 
she  turned  away  her  face.  A  short  pause  followed. 

"I  think  you  are  right,"  she  said  at  last.  Then,  with 
out  looking  at  him,  she  left  the  room. 

Ghisleri  watched  her  until  she  disappeared,  and  there 
was  a  strange  expression  in  his  usually  hard  blue  eyes. 
It  seemed  as  though  the  woman  could  do  nothing  with 
out  touching  some  sensitive,  sympathetic  chord  in  his 
inner  nature,  though  her  presence  left  him  apparently 
perfectly  cold  and  indifferent.  Yet  he  had  known  him 
self  so  long,  that  he  dreaded  the  sensation,  and  his  ever- 
ready  self-contempt  rose  at  the  idea  that  he  could  possi 
bly  find  himself  capable  of  loving  his  friend's  wife,  even 
in  the  most  distant  future.  Besides,  there  was  nothing 
at  all  really  resembling  love  in  what  he  felt,  so  far  as  he 
could  judge.  If  it  ever  developed  into  love,  it  would 
turn  out  to  be  a  love  so  far  nobler  than  anything  there 
had  been  in  his  life,  as  to  be  at  present  beyond  his 
comprehension. 

He  did  not  see  Laura  again  for  several  hours.     He 


144  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

spent  the  day  in  Arden's  room,  and  for  the  first  time  felt 
that  he  was  of  use  when  his  strength  was  needed  to  lift 
the  frail  body  from  one  bed  to  the  other.  Arden  grew 
rapidly  worse,  Ghisleri  thought,  and  the  doctor  confirmed 
his  opinion  when  he  came  for  the  third  time  that  day. 

"To  be  quite  frank,"  he  said  gravely,  as  he  took  leave 
of  Pietro  in  the  hall,  "I  have  no  hope  of  his  recovery, 
and  I  doubt  whether  he  will  last  until  to-morrow  night." 

This  was  no  surprise  to  Ghisleri,  who  knew  how  little 
strength  of  resistance  lay  in  the  crippled  frame.  He 
bent  his  head  in  silence  as  the  physician  went  out,  and 
he  almost  shivered  as  he  thought  of  what  was  before  him. 
He  knew  now  that  he  must  stand  by  Laura's  side  at  the 
near  last  moment  of  great  suffering,  when  she  was  to  see 
the  one  being  she  loved  pass  away  before  her  eyes.  He 
was  more  than  ever  glad  that  he  had  induced  her  to  rest. 
Arden's  mind  was  still  wandering,  and  she  could  be  of  no 
immediate  use. 

So  the  day  ended  at  last  and  the  night  began  and  wore 
on,  much  like  the  previous  one,  saving  that  the  anxiety 
of  all  was  trebled.  The  other  sister  had  returned,  and 
Ghisleri  saw  by  her  face  that  she  had  no  hope.  With 
the  same  faultless  regularity  she  performed  her  duties 
through  the  long  hours. 

Towards  midnight  Laura  and  Ghisleri  met  in  the  draw 
ing-room.  For  several  minutes  she  stood  in  silence  be 
fore  the  fire.  Pietro  could  see  that  her  lips  were 
trembling  as  though  she  were  on  the  point  of  bursting 
into  tears.  He  knew  how  proud  she  must  be,  and  he 
moved  away  towards  the  door.  She  heard  his  step 
behind  her,  and  without  turning  round  she  beckoned  to 
him  with  her  hand  to  stay.  He  came  back  and  stood  at 
a  little  distance  from  her.  Still  she  was  silent  for  a 
moment ;  then  she  spoke. 

"It  is  coming,"  she  said  unsteadily.  "You  must  help 
me  to  bear  it." 

"I  will  do  my  best,"  answered  Ghisleri,  earnestly. 

Another  pause  followed.     Then  again  she  made  a  ges- 


PIETRO   GHISLEEI.  145 

ture,  hurried  and  almost  violent,  bidding  him  leave  her. 
Before  he  could  reach  the  door  he  heard  her  first  sob, 
and  as  he  closed  it  behind  him  the  storm  of  her  passion 
ate  grief  broke  upon  the  silence  of  the  night.  He  was 
not  a  man  easily  moved  to  any  outward  demonstration  of 
feeling,  but  the  tears  stood  in  his  eyes  as  he  went  back 
to  Arden's  bedside,  and  they  were  not  for  the  friend  he 
was  so  soon  to  lose. 

The  sick  man  was  unconscious  and  lay  quite  still  on 
his  back  with  closed  lids.  The  sister  was  on  her  feet, 
watching  him  intently.  She  shook  her  head  sadly  when 
Ghisleri  looked  at  her.  The  end  was  not  far  off,  as  she 
in  her  great  experience  well  knew.  In  hot  haste  Pietro 
sent  for  the  doctor,  with  a  message  saying  that  Lord 
Herbert  was  dying.  But  when  he  came  he  admitted 
reluctantly  that  he  could  do  nothing ;  there  was  no  hope 
even  of  prolonging  life  until  morning. 

"Lady  Herbert  should  be  told  the  truth,"  he  said.  "If 
you  wish  it  I  will  wait  in  another  room  until  the  end.77 

"I  think  it  would  be  better.  Lady  Herbert  knows 
that  there  is  no  hope,  but  she  will  feel  less  nervous  if  you 
are  at  hand.  How  long  do  you  expect  —  ? 77 

"He  will  not  live  many  minutes  after  he  comes  to 
himself,  I  should  say.  The  little  strength  there  was  is 
all  gone.  There  will  be  a  lucid  interval  of  a  few  mo 
ments,  and  then  the  heart  will  stop.  It  was  always 
defective.77 

"Then  Lady  Herbert  ought  to  be  with  him  now,  in 
case  it  comes,77  said  Ghisleri. 

He  left  the  doctor  in  the  little  room  which  Arden  had 
used  as  a  study,  and  went  back  to  the  drawing-room, 
feeling  that  one  of  the  hardest  moments  of  his  life  had 
come.  Laura  was  seated  in  a  deep  chair,  leaning  back, 
her  eyes  half-closed  and  her  cheeks  still  wet  with  tears. 
She  started  as  Ghisleri  entered. 

"The  doctor  has  seen  him  again,77  he  said.  "If  you 
are  able,  it  would  be  better — 77  He  stopped,  for  he  saw 
that  she  understood. 


146  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

They  went  back  together.  As  they  entered  the  room 
they  heard  Arden's  weak  voice. 

"Laura,  darling,  where  are  you?"  he  was  asking. 
Ghisleri  saw  that  he  was  quite  in  possession  of  his  facul 
ties  and  went  quietly  out,  leaving  him  with  his  wife  and 
the  sister. 

"I  am  here,  love,"  Laura  answered,  coming  swiftly  up 
to  his  side  and  supporting  him  as  he  tried  to  sit  up. 

"  It  was  so  long,"  he  said  faintly.  "  I  am  so  glad  you 
have  come,  dear." 

"  You  must  not  try  to  talk.  You  must  not  tire  your 
self." 

"  It  can  make  no  difference  now,"  he  answered,  letting 
his  head  rest  upon  her  shoulder.  "  I  must  speak,  dear 
one — this  once  before  I  die.  Yes,  I  know  I  am  dying. 
It  is  better  so.  I  have  had  in  you  all  that  God  has  to 
give,  all  the  happiness  of  a  long  life,  in  these  short 
months." 

He  paused  and  drew  a  painful  breath.  Laura's  face 
was  like  alabaster,  but  she  did  not  break  down  again  now 
until  all  was  over. 

"  I  owe  it  all  to  you  —  my  life's  love.  You  have  given 
me  so  much,  and  I  have  given  you  so  little.  But  God 
will  give  it  all  back  to  you,  dear,  some  day.  There  is 
one  thing  I  must  say  —  oh,  my  breath  !" 

He  gasped  in  an  agonised  way,  and  almost  choked. 
Laura  thought  it  was  the  end,  but  he  rallied  again 
presently. 

"  One  thing,  darling  —  you  must  remember,  if  you 
have  loved  me  —  ah,  and  you  have,  dear  —  that  no 
promise  binds  you.  You  must  try  and  think  that  if  you 
forego  any  happiness  for  the  memory  of  me,  you  will  be 
taking  that  same  happiness  from  me  as  well  as  from 
yourself.  It  will  be  right  and  just  that  you  should  marry 
if  you  wish  to." 

"  Oh,  Herbert !  Herbert ! "  cried  Laura,  pressing  him 
to  her,  "  do  not  talk  so  !  " 

"Promise   me   that    you  will   never  think    yourself 


£IETKO   GHISLERI.  *  147 

bound,"  he  said  earnestly,  speaking  with  more  and  more 
effort.  "  I  shall  not  die  happily  unless  you  do." 

Laura  bowed  her  head. 

"  I  promise  it,  dear,  because  you  wish  it." 

"  Thank  you,  love." 

He  was  silent  for  some  time.  He  seemed  to  be  thinking, 
or  at  least  trying  to  collect  his  last  thoughts. 

"If  it  is  a  little  girl,  call  her  Laura,"  he  said,  in  a 
breaking  voice.  "  Then  I  shall  know  her  in  heaven,  if 
she  comes  to  me  before  you." 

"  Or  else  Herbert,"  said  Laura,  softly. 

He  moved  his  head  a  little  in  assent. 

"Darling,"  he  said  presently,  "always  remember  that 
my  last  breath  is  a  blessing  for  you." 

Very  tenderly  she  pressed  him  to  her  heart  and  kissed 
him.  Not  till  long  afterwards  did  she  realise  the  perfect 
unselfishness  of  the  man's  end,  nor  how  every  word  so 
painfully  spoken  was  meant  to  forestall  and  soothe  her 
coming  sorrow. 

"  Say  a  prayer  for  me,  darling  —  it  is  not  far  off.  Say 
something  in  your  own  words  —  they  will  be  better 
heard." 

Still  supporting  him  against  her  breast,  Laura  raised 
her  eyes  heavenwards.  The  sister,  little  used  to  seeing 
men  die  without  comfort  of  Holy  Church,  knelt  down  by 
the  table.  Then  Laura's  soft  voice  was  heard  in  the 
quiet  chamber. 

"  Almighty  God,  I  beseech  Thee  to  receive  the  soul  of 
this  pure  and  true-hearted  man  amongst  the  spotless 
ones  that  are  with  Thee,  to  forgive  all  his  sins,  if  any 
are  yet  unforgiven,  and  to  render  to  him  in  heavenly  joy 
all  the  happiness  he  has  brought  her  who  loves  him  on 
earth,  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  Amen." 

She  ceased,  forcing  back  the  tears.  He  moved  his 
head  a  little  and  kissed  the  hand  that  supported  him.  A 
long  silence  followed. 

"I  thought  Ghisleri  came  to  the  door  with  you  and 
went  out  again,"  he  said  very  feebly. 


148  PIETRO  GHISLERI. 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  him,  darling  ?  " 

"  Yes.  He  is  a  dear  friend  — better  in  every  way  than 
any  one  knows." 

At  a  word  from  Laura  the  sister  rose  and  called 
Pietro.  He  was  waiting  in  the  passage.  He  came  to  the 
bedside  and  stood  opposite  to  Laura,  bending  down  and 
pressing  Arden's  wasted  hand ;  he  was  very  pale. 

"Ghisleri  —  dear  old  friend  —  good-bye  —  I  am  going. 
Take  care  of  her — you  and  Harry  — "  He  gasped  for 
breath. 

"So  help  me  God,  I  will  do  my  best,"  answered 
Pietro,  solemnly. 

Arden  gave  him  one  grateful  look.  Then  with  a  last 
effort  he  drew  Laura's  face  to  his  and  kissed  her  once 
more. 

"  Love  —  love  —  love  —  " 

The  light  went  out  in  his  eyes  and  Herbert  Arden  was 
dead,  dying  as  he  had  lived  of  late,  and  perhaps  all  his 
life,  unselfish  in  every  thought  and  deed. 

With  a  cry  that  seemed  to  break  her  heart,  Laura  fell 
forward  upon  the  shadowy  form  that  seemed  so  un 
naturally  small  as  it  lay  there  under  the  white  coverlet. 
Ghisleri  knelt  in  silence  a  few  minutes  beside  his  dead 
friend,  and  then  rose  to  his  feet. 

"She  has  fainted,"  said  the  sister  softly.  "If  you 
could  lift  her  with  me  —  " 

But  Ghisleri  needed  no  help  as  he  lifted  the  unconscious 
woman  in  his  arms  and  carried  her  swiftly  from  the  room. 
He  laid  her  upon  the  very  sofa  on  which  he  had  seen  her 
fall  asleep  011  the  previous  night,  and  rang  for  Donald  as 
he  had  then  done. 

"  His  lordship  is  dead,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  as  the 
Scotchman  entered.  "Her  ladyship  has  fainted.  Please 
send  me  her  maid." 

Donald  turned  very  white  and  left  the  room  without  a 
word.  When  Laura  came  to  herself  the  women  were 
with  her  arid  Ghisleri  was  gone.  With  an  experienced 
man's  coolness  he  gave  all  necessary  orders,  and  foresaw 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  149 

details  which  no  one  else  would  have  remembered.  Then 
he  went  back  to  the  chamber  of  death.  No  strange, 
unloving  hands  should  touch  the  frail  body  of  the  man 
he  had  known  so  well.  Pietro  Ghisleri,  who,  as  the 
world  said,  "  never  cared,"  was  oddly  sensitive  at  times. 
On  that  memorable  night  he  would  let  no  one  help  him 
in  performing  the  last  offices  for  Herbert  Arden.  When 
Laura  next  saw  her  husband,  the  calm  and  beautiful  face 
lay  on  its  snowy  pillow  surrounded  with  masses  of  white 
flowers.  That  was  at  daybreak. 

Late  on  the  following  night  Ghisleri  followed  the 
men  who  bore  the  heavy  burden  down  the  stairs.  A 
quiet-looking  woman  of  middle  age  met  them  and 
crossed  herself  as  she  waited  for  them  to  pass  her  on 
the  landing.  She  came  to  take  care  of  Herbert  Arden's 
son. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

THE  season  had  begun,  but  Pietro  Ghisleri  had  little 
heart  for  going  into  the  world.  Apart  from  the  very  sad 
scenes  of  which  he  had  been  a  witness  so  recently,  he 
really  mourned  the  loss  of  his  friend  with  a  sincerity  for 
which  few  would  have  given  him  credit.  It  would,  of 
course,  have  been  an  exaggeration  to  act  as  though  Arden 
had  been  his  brother  and  to  cast  himself  otf  from  society 
for  several  months ;  but  during  a  fortnight  after  he  had 
laid  Lord  Herbert  in  the  Protestant  Cemetery  at  Monte 
Testaccio,  he  was  seen  nowhere.  He  went,  indeed,  to  the 
house  of  the  Contessa  del?  Armi,  but  he  made  his  visits 
at  hours  when  no  one  else  was  received,  as  everybody 
knew,  and  he  consequently  saw  none  of  his  acquaintances 
except  in  the  street.  Twice  daily  at  first,  and  then  once, 
he  went  to  the  door  of  the  Tempietto  and  sent  up  for 
news  of  Laura  and  the  child.  Strange  to  say,  after  the 
first  three  or  four  days  the  news  became  uniformly  good. 


150  £l£TKO  GHISLEKL 

Ghisleri  learned  that  the  little  boy  had  come  into  the 
world  sound  arid  strong  at  all  points,  without  the  slightest 
apparent  tendency  to  inherit  his  father's  physical  defects 
which,  indeed,  had  been  wholly  the  result  of  accident. 
The  Princess  of  Gerano  who,  by  Laura's  express  wish, 
had  been  kept  in  ignorance  of  Arden's  illness  on  the  first 
day  and  had  not  learned  that  he  was  seriously  ill  until 
he  was  actually  dead,  had  now  established  herself  perma 
nently  at  the  Tempietto,  and  her  presence  doubtless  did 
much  towards  hastening  her  daughter's  recovery.  It 
was  wonderful  that  Laura  should  have  escaped  the  fever, 
still  more  so  that  she  should  rally  so  rapidly  from  a 
series  of  shocks  which  might  have  ruined  an  ordinary 
constitution ;  but  Laura  was  very  strong. 

The  Princess  told  Ghisleri  that  the  child  seemed  to 
have  taken  Herbert's  place.  He  was  to  he  called  Her 
bert  too,  and  the  other  dearly  loved  one  who  had  borne 
the  name  was  never  spoken  of.  No  one  would  ever  know 
what  Laura  felt,  but  those  who  knew  her  well  guessed  at 
the  depth  of  a  sorrow  beyond  words  or  outward  signs  of 
grief.  In  the  meanwhile  life  revived  in  her  and  she 
began  to  live  for  her  child,  as  she  had  lived  for  her  hus 
band,  loving  the  baby  boy  with  a  twofold  love,  for  him 
self  and  for  his  father's  sake. 

Ghisleri  had  written  to  the  Marquess  of  Lul worth, 
Arden's  brother,  but  a  letter  from  him  to  Arden  himself 
arrived  on  the  day  after  the  latter's  death,  telling  him 
that  Lord  and  Lady  Lulworth  were  just  starting  to  go 
round  the  world  in  their  yacht.  The  Lulworths  were 
people  whose  movements  it  was  impossible  to  foretell, 
and  after  sending  a  number  of  telegrams  to  ports  they 
were  likely  to  touch  at,  Ghisleri  abandoned  all  hope  of 
hearing  from  them  for  a  long  time. 

Meanwhile,  he  ascertained  that  Laura  was  likely  to 
be  hampered  for  ready  money.  Her  mother's  private 
resources  were  very  slender,  and  Laura  was  far  too  proud 
to  accept  any  assistance  from  Adele  Savelli's  father.  She 
could  not  dispose,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  of  anything  which 


PIETEO   GHISLERL  151 

her  husband  had  left  her  except  the  actual  ready  money 
which  happened  to  be  in  the  house ;  for  she  could  not 
even  draw  upon  his  letters  of  credit  until  the  will  was 
proved  and  the  legal  formalities  all  carried  out.  It  was 
natural,  too,  that  at  such  a  time  she  should  neither  be 
aware  of  her  position  nor  give  a  thought  to  such  a  trivial 
matter  as  household  expenses. 

One  morning  Donald  came  to  Ghisleri's  rooms  in  con 
siderable  distress,  to  ask  advice  of  his  master's  old  friend. 
He  would  not  disturb  Lady  Herbert,  he  said,  and  he  was 
ashamed  to  tell  the  Princess  that  there  was  no  money  in 
the  house.  Grhisleri's  first  impulse  was  to  give  him  all 
the  cash  he  had ;  but  he  reflected  that  in  the  first  place  the 
sum  might  not  be  sufficient,  for  Donald,  in  a  rather 
broken  voice,  had  referred  to  "the  necessary  expenses 
when  his  lordship  died,"  and  which  must  now  be  met : 
and  secondly,  Pietro  felt  that  when  Laura  came  to  know 
the  truth  she  would  not  like  to  find  herself  under  a  seri 
ous  obligation  to  him. 

"Donald,53  he  said,  after  a  few  moments'  reflection,  "it  is 
none  of  my  business,  but  you  have  been  a  long  time  with 
Lord  Herbert,  and  you  are  a  Scotchman,  and  the  Scotch 
are  said  to  be  careful ;  have  you  saved  a  little  money  ?  " 

"Well,  yes  sir,'7  answered  Donald;  "since  you  ask  me, 
I  may  say  that  I  have  saved  a  trifle.  And  I  am  sure,  sir, 
it  would  be  most  heartily  at  her  ladyship's  disposal  if  I 
could  go  home  and  get  it." 

"  You  need  not  go  for  it,  Donald.  I  will  lend  you  the 
equivalent,  in  our  money,  of  a  couple  of  hundred  pounds. 
You  can  then  pay  everything,  and  when  the  law  business 
is  finished  and  you  come  to  settle  with  her  ladyship,  you 
can  say  that  you  advanced  the  sum  yourself.  That  will 
be  quite  true,  because  I  lend  it  to  you,  personally,  as 
money  for  your  use,  and  when  you  get  it  back  you  will 
pay  it  to  me.  Do  you  see  ?" 

"Yes,  sir;  it  is  a  good  way,  too.  But  if  you  will  ex 
cuse  me,  sir,  you  might  very  well  lend  the  money  to  her 
ladyship's  self  without  pretending  anything." 


152  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

"No,  Donald,  I  would  rather  not.  Do  you  understand? 
Lady  Herbert  would  much  rather  borrow  from  you  than 
from  a  stranger." 

"A  stranger,  sir!  Well,  well,  if  his  poor  lordship 
could  hear  you  call  yourself  a  stranger,  sir!" 

"  One  who  is  no  relation.  She  might  feel  uncomfort 
able  about  it,  just  as  you  would  rather  come  to  me  than 
go  to  the  Princess  of  Gerano." 

"  Yes,  sir.     When  you  put  it  in  that  way.  I  see  it." 

So  Ghisleri  took  Donald  with  him  to  a  banker's  and 
drew  upon  his  slender  resources  for  five  thousand  francs, 
which  he  gave  to  the  Scotchman  in  notes.  It  had 
seemed  to  him  the  simplest  way  of  providing  for  Laura's 
immediate  necessities,  while  keeping  her  in  ignorance  of 
the  fact  that  any  necessity  at  all  really  existed.  The 
sensation  of  helping  her  with  money  was  an  odd  one,  he 
confessed  to  himself,  as  he  sent  Donald  home  and  walked 
idly  away  in  the  opposite  direction  through  the  crowded 
streets. 

As  he  strolled  down  the  Corso  thinking  of  Laura's 
position,  he  came  suddenly  upon  Donna  Adele  Savelli, 
alone  and  on  foot.  Even  through  the  veil  she  wore  he 
could  see  that  she  was  very  much  changed.  She  had 
grown  thin  and  pale,  and  her  manner  was  unaccountably 
nervous  when  she  stopped  and  spoke  to  him. 

"  Have  you  been  ill  ?  "  he  inquired,  scrutinising  her  face. 

"  No,  not  ill,"  she  answered,  looking  restlessly  to  the 
right  and  left  of  him  and  avoiding  his  eyes.  "  I  cannot 
tell  what  is  the  matter  with  me.  I  cannot  sleep  of  late 
—  perhaps  it  is  that.  My  husband  says  it  is  nothing, 
of  course.  I  would  give  anything  to  go  away  for  a  month 
or  two." 

"  You,  who  are  so  fond  of  society  !  Just  at  the  begin 
ning  of  the  season,  too !  How  odd.  But  you  should  be 
careful  of  yourself  if  you  are  losing  your  sleep.  Insom 
nia  is  a  dangerous  disease.  Take  sulphonal  in  small 
doses.  It  does  real  good,  and  it  never  becomes  a  habit, 
as  chloral  does." 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  153 

«  Sulphonal  ?  I  never  heard  of  it.  Is  it  really  good  ? 
Will  you  write  it  down  for  me  ?  " 

Ghisleri  took  one  of  his  cards  and  wrote  the  word  in 
pencil. 

"  Any  good  chemist  will  tell  you  how  much  to  take. 
Even  in  great  quantities  it  is  not  dangerous." 

"  Thanks." 

Donna  Adele  left  him  rather  abruptly,  taking  the  card 
with  her  and  holding  it  in  her  hand,  evidently  intending 
to  make  use  of  it  at  once.  Ghisleri  had  good  cause  for 
not  liking  her  and  wondered  inwardly  why  he  had  sug 
gested  a  means  of  alleviating  her  sufferings.  It  would 
have  been  much  better  to  let  her  bear  them,  he  thought. 
Then  he  laughed  at  himself  —  any  doctor  would  have 
told  her  what  to  take  and  would  probably  have  given  her 
a  store  of  good  advice  besides. 

Nearly  a  month  had  passed  when  Ghisleri  was  at  last 
admitted  to  see  Laura.  He  found  her  lying  upon  the 
same  sofa  on  which  she  had  slept  a  few  hours  during  the 
memorable  night  before  her  husband  died.  She  was 
even  thinner  now,  he  thought,  and  her  eyes  seemed  to  be 
set  deeper  than  ever,  while  her  face  was  almost  transpar 
ent  in  its  pallor.  But  the  look  was  different  —  it  was 
that  of  a  person  growing  stronger  rather  than  of  one 
breaking  down  under  a  heavy  strain.  She  held  out  her 
hand  to  him  and  looked  up  with  a  faint  smile  as  he  came 
to  her  side.  The  greeting  was  not  a  very  cordial  one, 
and  Ghisleri  felt  a  slight  shock  as  he  realised  the 
fact. 

She  could  not  help  it.  As  Herbert  Arden  breathed 
his  last,  the  old  sense  of  vague,  uneasy  dislike  for  Pietro 
returned  almost  with  the  cry  she  uttered  when  she  lost 
consciousness.  It  was  quite  beyond  her  control,  although 
it  had  been  wholly  forgotten  during  those  hours  of  suf 
fering  and  joint  nursing  which  preceded  her  husband's 
death.  Ghisleri  was  quite  conscious  of  it,  and  was 
inwardly  hurt.  It  was  hard,  too,  to  talk  of  indifferent 
subjects,  as  he  felt  that  he  must,  carefully  avoiding 


154  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

any   allusion  to  the   time   when   they   had    last    been 
together. 

"  How  do  you  pass  the  time  ?  "  he  asked,  after  a  few 
words  of  commonplace  greeting  and  inquiry.  "  It  must 
be  very  tiresome  for  you,  I  should  think." 

"I  never  was  so  busy  in  my  life,"  Laura  answered. 
"  You  have  no  idea  what  it  is  to  take  care  of  a  baby  ! " 

"  No,"  said  Ghisleri,  with  a  smile,  "  I  have  no  idea. 
But  your  mother  tells  me  he  is  a  splendid  child." 

"Of  course  I  think  so,  and  my  mother  does.  You 
shall  see  him  one  of  these  days  —  he  is  asleep  now. 
Would  you  like  to  know  how  my  day  is  passed  ?  " 

And  she  went  on  to  give  him  an  account  of  the  baby 
life  that  so  wholly  absorbed  her  thoughts.  Ghisleri  lis 
tened  quietly  as  though  he  understood  it  all.  He 
wished,  indeed,  that  it  were  possible  to  talk  of  something 
else,  and  he  felt  something  like  a  sensation  of  pain  as 
Laura  constantly  called  the  child  "Herbert,"  just  as 
she  had  formerly  been  used  to  speak  of  her  husband. 
Nevertheless,  he  was  conscious  also  of  a  certain  sense  of 
satisfaction.  During  the  month  which  had  elapsed  she 
had  learned  to  hide  her  great  trouble  under  the  joy  of 
early  motherhood.  There  was  something  very  beautiful 
in  her  devotion  to  the  child  of  her  sorrow,  and  hurt 
though  Ghisleri  was  by  her  manner  to  him,  she  seemed 
more  lovely  and  more  admirable  than  ever  in  his  eyes. 
He  said  so  when  he  went  to  see  Maddalena  delP  Armi 
late  in  the  afternoon. 

"I  have  seen  Lady  Herbert  to-day,"  he  began.  "It  is 
the  first  time  since  poor  Arden  died." 

"Is  she  very  unhappy?"  asked  the  Contessa. 

"  She  must  be,  for  she  never  speaks  of  him.  She  talks 
of  nothing  but  the  child." 

"I  understand  that,"  said  Maddalena,  thoughtfully. 
"  And  then,  it  is  such  a  compensation." 

"Yes."  Ghisleri  sighed.  He  was  thinking  of  what 
her  life  might  have  been  if  children  had  been  born  to  her, 
and  he  guessed  that  the  same  thoughts  were  in  her  mind 
at  the  time, 


PIETRO    GHISLEKI.  155 

"Did  you  ever  think/7  she  asked  after  a  short  pause, 
"  what  would  become  of  me  if  you  left  me  ?  I  should  be 
quite  alone ;  do  you  realise  that  ?  " 

Ghisleri  remembered  how  nearly  he  had  broken  with 
her  more  than  once  and  his  conscience  smote  him. 

"I  would  rather  not  think  of  it,"  he  said  simply. 

"You  should,"  she  answered.  "It  will  come  some 
day.  I  know  it.  When  it  does  I  shall  turn  into  a  very 
bad  woman,  much  worse  than  I  am  now." 

"Please  do  not  speak  so;  it  hurts  me." 

"That  is  a  phrase,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Maddalena. 
"I  always  tell  you  that  you  are  too  fond  of  making 
phrases.  You  ought  not  to  do  it  with  me.  You  are  not 
really  at  all  sensitive.  I  do  not  even  believe  that  you 
have  much  heart,  though  you  used  to  make  me  believe 
that  you  had." 

"Have  I  shown  you  that  I  am  heartless  ?" 

"That  is  always  your  way  of  answering.  You  are  a 
very  strange  compound  of  contradictions." 

"Do  you  know,  my  dear  lady,  that  you  are  falling  into 
the  habit  of  never  believing  a  word  I  say  ?  " 

"I  am  afraid  it  is  true,"  assented  Maddalena,  sadly. 
"  And  yet  I  would  not  be  unjust  to  you  for  the  world. 
You  have  given  me  almost  the  only  happiness  I  ever 
knew,  and  yet,  from  having  believed  too  much,  I  know 
that  I  am  coming  to  believe  too  little." 

"And  you  even  think  it  is  a  mere  phrase  when  I  tell 
you  that  your  distrust  hurts  me." 

"Sometimes.  You  are  not  easily  hurt,  and  I  do  not 
believe  either  —  "  She  stopped  suddenly  in  the  midst  of 
her  speech. 

"What?"  asked  Ghisleri. 

"I  will  not  say  it.  I  say  things  to  you  occasionally 
which  I  regret  later.  I  told  you  that  I  would  not  be 
unjust,  and  I  will  try  not  to  be.  Be  faithful,  if  you  can, 
but  be  honest  with  me.  Do  not  pretend  that  you  care 
for  me  one  hour  longer  than  you  really  do.  It  would  be 
dreadful  to  know  the  truth,  but  it  is  much  worse  to 
doubt.  Will  you  promise  ?  " 


156  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

"Yes,"  answered  Pietro,  gravely.  "I  have  promised 
it  before  now." 

"Then  remember  it.  Be  sure  of  what  you  mean  and 
of  yourself,  if  you  can,  — be  quite,  quite  sure.  You  know 
what  it  would  mean  to  me  to  break.  I  have  not  even  a 
little  child  to  love  me,  as  Laura  Arden  has.  I  shall  have 
nothing  when  you  are  gone — nothing  but  the  memory  of 
all  the  wrong  I  have  done,  all  that  can  never  be  undone 
in  this  world  or  the  next." 

Ghisleri  was  moved  and  his  strong  face  grew  very  pale 
while  she  was  speaking.  He  had  often  realised  it  all  of 
late,  and  he  knew  how  greatly  he  had  wronged  her.  It 
was  not  the  first  time  in  his  life  that  he  had  been  so 
placed,  and  that  remorse,  real  while  it  lasted,  had  taken 
hold  of  him  even  before  love  was  extinct.  But  he  had 
never  felt  so  strongly  as  he  felt  to-day,  and  he  did  his 
best  to  comfort  himself  with  the  shadowy  medicine  of 
good  resolutions.  He  had  honestly  hoped  that  he  might 
never  love  woman  again  besides  Maddalena  dell'  Armi, 
and  as  that  hope  grew  fainter  he  felt  as  though  the  very 
last  poor  fragments  of  self-respect  he  had  left  were  being 
torn  from  him  piecemeal.  She,  on  her  part,  was  very 
far  from  guessing  what  he  suffered,  for  she  was  unjust  to 
him,  in  spite  of  her  real  desire  not  to  be  so,  and  it  was  in 
a  measure  this  same  injustice  which  was  undermining 
what  had  been  once  a  very  sincere  love  —  good  in  that 
one  way,  if  sinful  and  guilty  in  all  other  respects.  Unbe 
lief  is,  perhaps,  what  a  man's  love  can  bear  the  least ;  as 
a  woman's  may  break  and  die  at  the  very  smallest 
unfaithfulness  in  him  she  loves,  and  as  average  human 
nature  is  largely  compounded  of  faithlessness  and  unbelief, 
it  is  not  surprising  that  true  love  should  so  rarely  prove 
lasting. 

Ghisleri  saw  no  one  after  he  left  Maddalena  on  that 
day.  He  went  home  and  shut  himself  up  alone  in  his 
room,  as  he  had  done  many  times  before  that  in  his  life, 
despairingly  attempting  to  see  clearly  into  his  own  heart, 
and  to  distinguish,  if  possible,  the  right  course  from  the 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  157 

wrong  in  the  dim  light  of  the  only  morality  left  to  him 
then,  which  was  his  sense  of  honour.  And  the  position 
was  a  very  hard  one.  He  knew  too  well  that  his  love 
for  Maddalena  was  waning,  and  he  even  doubted  whether 
it  had  ever  been  love  at  all.  Most  bitterly  he  reproached 
himself  for  the  evil  he  had  already  brought  into  her 
existence,  and  for  the  suffering  that  awaited  her  in  the 
future.  Again  and  again  he  went  over  in  his  mind  the 
hours  of  the  past,  recalling  vividly  each  word  and  gesture 
out  of  the  time  when  the  truest  sympathy  had  seemed  to 
exist  between  them,  and  asking  himself  why  it  might 
not  take  a  new  life  again  and  be  all  that  it  once  had 
been.  The  answer  that  suggested  itself  was  too  despic 
able  in  his  eyes  for  him  to  accept  it,  for  it  told  him  that 
Maddalena  herself  had  changed  and  was  no  longer  the 
same  woman  whom  he  had  once  loved,  and  whom  he 
could  love  still,  he  fancied,  if  she  were  still  with  him. 
It  seemed  so  utterly  disloyal  to  cast  any  of  the  blame  on 
her  that  the  lonely  man  put  the  thought  from  him  with 
an  angry  oath.  Of  that  baseness  at  least  he  would  not 
have  to  accuse  himself.  He  would  never,  by  the  merest 
suggestion,  suffer  himself  to  think  one  unkind  thought  of 
Maddalena  dell'  Armi. 

But  the  great  question  remained  unsolved.  Was 
what  was  now  left  really  love  in  any  sense,  or  not,  and 
if  not  must  he  keep  his  promise  and  tell  her  the  truth, 
or  would  it  be  more  honourable  to  live  for  her  sake  by  a 
rule  of  devotion  and  faithfulness  which  his  strong  will 
could  make  real  in  itself  and  in  the  letter,  if  not  in  the 
spirit  ?  He  knew  that  she  was  in  earnest  in  what  she 
had  said.  If  she  knew  that  he  had  ceased  to  love  her, 
she  would  feel  utterly  alone  in  the  world,  and  might 
well  be  driven  to  almost  any  lengths  in  the  desperate 
search  for  distraction.  She  had  not  said  it,  but  he  knew 
that  in  her  heart  she  would  lay  all  the  sins  of  her  life  at 
his  door  and  that  in  this  at  least  she  would  not  be 
wholly  unjust. 

With  such  a  character  as  Ghisleri's  it  is  not  easy  to 


158  PIETRO   GHISLKRI. 

foresee  what  direction  impulse  will  take  when  it  comes 
at  last.  He  was  quite  capable,  of  giving  up  the  attempt 
to  understand  himself  and  of  leaving  the  whole  matter 
to  chance,  with  a  coolness  which  would  have  seemed 
cruel  and  cynical  if  it  had  not  been  the  result  of  something 
like  despair.  He  was  capable,  if  he  failed  to  reach  a 
conclusion  by  logical  means,  of  tossing  up  a  coin  to 
decide  whether  he  should  tell  poor  Maddalena  dell'  Armi 
that  he  did  not  love  her,  or  else  stand  by  her  in  spite 
of  every  obstacle  and  devote  his  whole  life  to  the  elabo 
rate  fiction  of  an  unreal  attachment.  Strangely  enough 
Laura  Arden  played  a  part,  and  an  important  one,  in 
bringing  about  his  ultimate  decision.  He  assuredly  had 
no  thought  of  loving  her,  nor  of  the  possibility  of  loving 
her  at  that  time.  He  would  even  have  thought  it  an 
exaggeration  to  say  that  he  was  devotedly  attached  to 
her  in  the  way  of  friendship.  And  yet  he  felt  that  she 
exercised  a  dominating  influence  over  his  mind.  He 
found  himself  laying  the  matter  before  her  in  imagina 
tion,  as  he  should  never  be  likely  to  do  in  "fact,  and 
submitting  it  to  her  judgment  as  to  that  of  a  person 
supremely  capable  of  distinguishing  right  from  wrong 
and  false  from  true.  It  was  singular,  too,  that  he  should 
make  no  comparison  between  her  and  Maddalena,  though 
possibly  no  such  comparison  could  have  been  made. 
But  he  compared  himself  with  her  —  the  depth  of  his 
moral  degradation  in  his  own  eyes  with  the  lofty  purity 
of  thought  and  purpose  which  he  attributed  to  her.  The 
consequence  could  hardly  fail  to  be  a  certain  aspiration, 
vague  and  almost  sentimental,  to  become  such  a  man  as 
might  not  seem  to  her  wholly  unworthy  of  trust.  This 
did  not  help  him  much,  however,  and  when  at  last  he 
went  to  bed,  having  forgotten  to  go  out  and  dine,  and 
weary  of  the  hard  problem,  he  was  not  much  further 
advanced  than  when  he  had  sat  down  to  think  of  it 
last  in  the  afternoon. 

In  the  morning  everything  seemed  simpler,  and  the 
necessity  for  immediate  decision  disappeared.     He  had 


PIETEO    GHISLERI.  159 

not  yet  by  any  means  reached  the  point  of  not  loving 
Maddalena  at  all,  and  until  he  did  there  was  no  reason 
why  he  should  form  any  plan  of  action.  It  would  in 
any  case  be  very  hard  to  act  upon  such  a  plan,  for  the 
dreaded  moment  would  in  all  likelihood  be  a  stormy  one, 
and  he  could  not  forese^  in  the  least  what  Maddalena 
herself  would  do. 

After  that  he  felt  for  a  long  time  much  more  of  the  old 
sympathy  with  her  than  he  had  known  of  late,  and  he 
tormented  himself  less  often  with  the  direction  of  his  own 
motives  and  thoughts.  He  saw  much  of  Laura,  too,  in 
those  days,  and  spent  long  hours  beside  her  as  she  lay 
upon  her  sofa.  He  always  left  her  with  a  sensation 
of  having  been  soothed  and  rested,  though  he  could  not 
say  of  her  that  she  was  much  inclined  to  talk,  or 
showed  any  great  satisfaction  at  his  coming.  Probably, 
he  thought,  she  was  willing  to  see  him  so  often  because 
he  had  been  Arden's  friend.  He  did  not  understand 
that  she  did  not  quite  like  him  and  that  his  presence 
was  often  irksome  to  her,  for  she  was  far  too  kind  by 
nature  to  let  him  suspect  it.  He  only  thought  that  he 
was  in  her  eyes  a  perfectly  indifferent  person,  and  he 
saw  no  reason  for  depriving  himself  of  her  society  so 
long  as  she  consented  to  receive  him.  They  rarely 
talked  of  subjects  at  all  relating  to  themselves,  either, 
and  their  conversation  turned  chiefly  upon  books  and 
general  topics.  Ghisleri  read  a  good  deal  in  a  desul 
tory  way,  and  his  memory  was  good.  It  interested  him, 
too,  to  propound  problems  for  her  judgment  and  to  see 
how  nearly  she  would  solve  them  in  the  way  he  expected 
her  to  choose.  He  was  rarely  mistaken  in  his  expecta 
tions. 

Little  by  little,  though  Laura's  principal  feeling  in 
regard  to  him  did  not  change  perceptibly,  she  became 
interested  in  his  nature,  beginning  to  perceive  that  there 
were  depths  in  it  which  she  had  not  suspected. 

"  Are  you  a  happy  man  ?  "  she  once  asked  him  rather 
abruptly,  and  watching  the  expression  of  his  face. 


160  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

"  Certainly  not  at  present,"  he  answered,  looking  away 
from  her  as  though  to  hinder  her  from  reading  his 
thoughts.  "  Why  do  you  ask  that  ?  " 

"Forgive  me.  I  should  not  put  such  a  question, 
I  suppose.  But  you  interest  me." 

"  Do  I  ?  "  He  glanced  quickly  at  her  as  he  spoke,  and 
she  saw  that  he  was  pleased.  "  I  am  very  glad  that  you 
should  take  any  interest  in  me,  —  of  any  kind  whatever. 
Would  you  like  to  know  why  I  am  unhappy  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  I  can  only  tell  you  in  a  general  way.  I  make  no  pre 
tence  to  any  sort  of  goodness  or  moral  rectitude,  beyond 
what  we  men  commonly  include  in  what  we  call  the  code 
of  honour.  But  I  am  perpetually  tormented  about  my 
own  motives.  Knowing  myself  to  be  what  I  am,  I  dis 
trust  every  good  impulse  I  have,  merely  because  it  is  not  a 
bad  one,  because  my  natural  impulses  are  bad,  and  because 
I  will  not  allow  myself  to  act  any  sort  of  comedy,  even  in 
my  own  feelings.  That  sort  of  honesty,  or  desire  for 
honesty,  is  all  I  have  left  —  on  it  hangs  the  last  shred  of 
my  tattered  self-respect." 

"How  dreadful!"  Laura's  deep  eyes  rested  on  him 
for  the  first  time  with  a  new  expression.  There  was  both 
pity  and  wonder  in  their  look  —  pity  for  the  man  and 
wonder  at  a  state  of  mind  of  which  she  had  never 
dreamed. 

"  Does  it  seem  dreadful  to  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"If  you  really  feel  as  you  say  you  do,"  answered 
Laura,  "I  can  understand  that  you  should  be  very 
unhappy." 

"  Why  do  you  doubt  that  I  feel  what  I  have  told  you  ?  " 
Ghisleri  wondered,  as  he  asked  the  question,  whether  he 
was  ever  to  be  believed  again  by  any  woman.  "  Do  you 
think  I  am  untruthful  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Laura,  quickly.  "Indeed  I  do  not.  On 
the  contrary,  I  think  you  very  scrupulously  exact  when 
you  speak  of  things  you  know  about.  But  any  one  may 
be  mistaken  in  judging  of  himself." 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  161 

"That  is  precisely  the  point.  I  am  afraid  of  finding 
myself  mistaken,  and  so  I  do  not  trust  my  own  motives." 

"  Yes  —  I  see.  But  then,  if  you  do  what  is  right,  you 
need  not  let  your  motives  trouble  you.  That  seems  so 
simple." 

"  To  you.  Do  you  remember  ?  I  once  told  you  that 
you  were  horribly  good.  " 

"  I  am  not,"  said  Laura,  "  but  if  I  were,  I  should  not 
see  anything  horrible  in  it." 

"  I  should,  and  I  do.  When  I  see  how  good  you  are  I 
am  horrified  at  myself.  That  is  what  I  mean." 

"  Why  do  you  so  often  talk  about  being  bad  ?  You  will 
end  by  making  me  believe  that  you  are  —  if  I  do  not 
believe  it  already." 

"  As  you  do,  I  fancy.  What  difference  can  it  make  to 
you?" 

"  Everything  makes  a  difference  which  lowers  one's 
estimate  of  human  nature,"  Laura  answered,  with  a  wis 
dom  beyond  her  age  or  experience.  "  After  all,  to  go 
back  to  the  point,  the  choice  lies  with  you.  You  know 
what  is  right ;  do  it,  and  give  up  wasting  time  on  useless 
self-examination." 

"  Useless  self-examination !  "  repeated  Ghisleri,  with 
rather  a  sour  smile.  "  I  suppose  that  is  what  it  really 
is,  after  all.  How  you  saints  bowl  over  our  wretched 
attempts  at  artificial  morality  !  " 

"  No ;  do  not  say  that,  please,  and  do  not  be  so  bitter. 
I  do  not  like  it.  Tell  me  instead  why  you  cannot  do  as 
I  suggest.  If  a  thing  is  right,  do  it ;  if  it  is  wrong,  leave 
it  undone." 

"If  I  could  tell  you  that,  I  should  understand  the 
meaning  of  this  life  and  the  next,  instead  of  being  quite 
in  the  dark  about  the  one  and  the  other." 

Laura  was  silent.  She  was  surprised  by  the  result  of 
the  question  she  had  at  first  put  to  him,  and  was  at  the 
same  time  conscious  that  she  did  not  feel  towards  him  as 
she  had  hitherto  felt.  Not  that  she  liked  him  any  better. 
She  was  perhaps  further  than  ever  from  that,  though  her 

M 


162  PIETKO   GHISLERI. 

likes  and  dislikes  did  not  depend  at  all  upon  the  moral 
estimate  she  formed  of  people's  characters.  But  she  un 
derstood  what  he  meant  far  better  than  he  guessed,  and 
she  pitied  him  and  wished  that  she  could  say  something 
to  make  him  take  a  simpler  and  more  sensible  view  of 
himself  and  the  world.  He  interested  her  much  more 
than  half  an  hour  earlier. 

They  did  not  return  to  the  subject  the  next  time  they 
met,  and  Ghisleri  fancied  she  had  forgotten  what  he  had 
said,  whereas,  in  reality,  she  often  thought  of  it  and  of 
him.  Before  long  she  was  able  to  go  out,  and  they  met 
less  frequently.  She  began  to  lead  the  life  which  she 
supposed  was  in  store  for  her  during  the  remainder  of 
her  existence.  The  only  difference  in  the  future  would 
be  that  by  and  by  she  would  not  wear  black  any  longer, 
that  next  year  she  would  move  into  a  more  modest  apart 
ment,  and  that  as  time  went  on  little  Herbert  would  grow 
up  to  be  a  man  and  Laura  would  be  an  elderly  woman. 

Matters  had  been  settled  at  last  in  England,  and  the 
momentary  embarrassment  which  so  much  distressed 
Donald  had  ceased.  The  good  man  had  felt  somewhat 
guilty  when  Laura  had  thanked  him  for  using  what  she 
supposed  to  be  his  savings  in  order  to  save  her  trouble. 
But  he  remembered  what  Ghisleri  had  told  him  and  held 
his  tongue,  afterwards  going  early  in  the  morning  to 
Pietro's  lodgings  to  repay  the  loan. 

Laura  had  heard  from  the  Lul worths,  too.  Ghisleri's 
letter  and  one  of  his  telegrams  had  reached  them  at  the 
same  time  somewhere  in  South  America.  Lulworth 
wrote  himself  to  Laura  and  there  was  a  deep,  strong  feel 
ing  in  his  few  words  which  made  her  like  him  better  than 
ever.  He  did  not  speak  of  coming  back,  and  she  thought 
it  quite  natural  that  he  should  stay  away.  He  only  said 
in  a  postscript  that  if  she  chose  to  go  to  England  his 
house  was  at  her  disposal,  but  that  he  himself  might  be 
in  Rome  during  the  following  winter. 

But  she  would  not  have  gone  to  England  for  anything. 
Her  mother's  presence  was  a  quite  sufficient  reason  for 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  168 

staying  where  she  was,  and  she  knew  also  that  her  mod 
est  income  would  seem  less  restricted  in  Italy.  The 
Princess  of  Gerano  had  proposed  to  her  to  come  and  live 
in  the  palace,  but  Laura  would  not  do  that  —  she  would 
never  put  herself  under  any  obligation  to  Adele's  father, 
much  as  she  herself  was  attached  to  him.  Her  mother 
represented  to  her  that  she  was  too  young  to  live  quite 
alone,  but  Laura  remained  unshaken  in  her  determination. 

"Herbert  protects  me,"  she  said  quietly,  but  the 
Princess  did  not  feel  sure  what  she  meant  by  the  words, 
nor  whether  the  Herbert  in  question  was  poor  Arden,  or 
the  baby  boy  asleep  in  his  cradle  in  the  next  room. 

There  was  in  either  case  a  certain  amount  of  truth  in 
what  she  said.  Great  sorrow  is  undeniably  a  protection 
to  a  woman,  and  so  is  her  child,  under  most  circumstances. 

"  And  as  for  my  living  alone,"  added  Laura,  "  Signor 
Ghisleri  is  the  only  man  I  receive,  and  people  would  be 
ingenious  to  couple  his  name  with  mine." 


CHAPTER   XII. 

ADELE  SAVELLI  followed  Ghisleri' s  advice,  and  took 
the  new  medicine  he  had  so  carelessly  recommended. 
At  first  it  did  her  good  and  she  regained  something  of 
her  natural  manner.  But  her  nerves  seemed  to  be  mys 
teriously  affected  and  terribly  unstrung.  Her  husband, 
watching  her  with  the  cool  judgment  of  a  person  neither 
prejudiced  by  dislike  nor  over-anxious  through  great  affec 
tion,  came  to  the  conclusion  that  she  was  turning  into  one 
of  those  nervous,  hysterical  women  whom  he  especially 
disliked,  and  whom  she  herself  professed  to  despise.  The 
world,  for  a  wonder,  was  at  a  loss  to  find  a  reason  for  her 
state,  and  contented  itself  with  suggesting  that  the  family 
skeleton  in  Casa  Savelli  had  probably  grown  restless  of 
late,  and  was  rattling  his  bones  in  his  closet  in  a  way 


164  PIETKO   GHISLEKI. 

which  disturbed  poor  dear  Adele,  who  was  such  a  deli 
cately  organised  being.  To  what  particular  tribe  the 
Savellis'  skeleton  belonged,  the  world  was  not  sure. 
Some  said  that  he  was  called  Insanity,  some  whispered 
that  his  name  was  Epilepsy,  and  not  a  few  surmised  that 
his  nature  was  financial.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  no  one 
knew  anything  about  him,  though  every  one  was  sure 
that  he  was  just  now  in  a  state  of  abnormal  activity,  and 
that  his  antics  accounted  for  Adele 's  pale  fSce  and  startled 
eyes. 

There  was  no  doubt  of  the  fact  that  she  was  ill,  though 
she  would  scarcely  admit  it,  and  went  through  the  season 
with  a  sort  of  feverish,  unnatural  gaiety.  Being  in 
reality  no  relation  at  all  to  Laura,  she  merely  wore  black 
for  three  weeks  as  a  token  of  respect,  but  did  not  espe 
cially  restrict  herself  in  the  matter  of  amusements  even 
during  that  time,  and  when  it  was  over,  she  threw  herself 
into  the  very  central  whirl  of  the  gay  set  with  a  sort  of 
desperate  recklessness  which  people  noticed  and  com 
mented  upon.  They  were  careful,  however,  not  to  speak 
too  loud.  Adele  Savelli  was  very  popular  in  society,  and 
a  very  important  person  altogether,  so  that  the  world  did 
not  dare  to  talk  about  her  as  it  discussed  poor  Laura 
Arden.  And  it  found  much  good  to  say  of  Adele.  It 
was  so  nice  of  her,  it  remarked,  to  change  completely  in 
her  way  of  speaking  of  her  step-sister,  since  the  latter 
had  lost  that  wretched  little  husband  of  hers.  He,  of 
course,  as  every  one  knew,  had  fallen  a  victim  to  his 
abominable  habit  of  drinking  brandy.  It  was  all  very 
well  to  call  it  scarlet  fever  —  the  world  was  well  aware 
what  that  meant.  The  name  of  the  thing  was  delirium 
tremens,  and  they  said  the  last  scene  was  quite  appalling. 
The  cripple,  in  the  violence  of  the  crisis,  had  twice  sprung 
up  and  thrown  down  G-hisleri,  who  was  a  very  strong  man, 
nevertheless,  and  who  had  behaved  in  the  most  admira 
ble  way.  He  had  not  allowed  any  one  to  be  present 
except  the  doctor,  and  it  was  impossible  to  extract  a  word 
of  the  truth  from  him.  That  was  how  it  happened  and, 


PIETRO   GHISLERT.  165 

well  —  after  all,  it  was  a  great  mercy,  and  it  was  no  won 
der  that  Laura  should  have  recovered  so  easily  from  the 
shock,  and  should  already  be  beginning  to  amuse  herself 
with  Ghisleri.  There  was  no  doubt  about  that,  either, 
for  he  went  there  every  day,  as  regularly  as  he  went  to 
see  the  Contessa  dell'  Armi.  And  it  was  really  angelic 
of  Adele  to  stand  up  so  resolutely  for  her  step-sister, 
considering  how  the  latter  had  always  behaved.  Adele 
took  so  much  trouble  to  deny  the  stories  that  were  circu 
lated,  that  some  people  learned  them  for  the  first  time 
through  her  denial. 

In  this,  as  in  many  other  things,  Adele  was  consistent. 
She  denied  everything. 

"It  is  not  even  true,"  she  said  to  Donna  Maria  Bocca- 
paduli,  "that  Laura  has  the  evil  eye." 

But  as  she  said  it,  she  quickly  folded  her  two  middle 
fingers  over  her  bent  thumb,  making  what  Italians  call 
"horns"  with  the  forefinger  and  little  finger.  Donna 
Maria  saw  the  action,  instinctively  imitated  it,  and  fell 
into  the  habit  of  repeating  it  whenever  Laura  was  men- 
•  tioned. 

"Why  do  you  do  that?"  asked  the  Marchesa  di  San 
Giacinto  of  her  the  next  day. 

«  Eh  —  my  dear !  Poor  Laura  Arden  is  a  terrible  jetta- 
trice,  you  know.  Adele  says  it  is  not  true,  but  she  makes 
horns  behind  her  back  all  the  same,  just  as  every  one  else 
does." 

Thereupon  the  Marchesa  did  the  same  thing,  wonder 
ing  that  she  should  so  long  have  been  ignorant  that  Laura 
had  the  evil  eye.  In  a  week's  time  all  Rome  made  horns 
when  Laura  was  mentioned.  At  a  dinner  party  a  ser 
vant  broke  a  glass  when  she  was  being  discussed,  and  at 
once  every  one  laughed  and  stuck  up  two  fingers.  San 
Giacinto,  who,  lean  as  he  was,  weighed  hard  upon  sixteen 
stone,  sat  down  upon  a  light  chair  in  Casa  Frangipani, 
just  as  he  was  saying  that  this  new  story  about  Laura  was 
all  nonsense,  and  the  chair  collapsed  into  a  little  heap  of 
straw  and  varnished  sticks  under  his  weight.  It  was  no 


166  PIETRO   GHISLERT. 

wonder,  people  said,  that  Arden  should  have  fainted  that 
night  at  the  Palazzo  Braccio,  for  Laura  had  just  accepted 
him.  They  seemed  to  have  forgotten  how  they  had  inter 
preted  that  very  scene  hitherto.  The  world  was  not  at  all 
surprised  that  he  should  have  died  in  the  first  year  of  his 
marriage,  considering  that  he  had  married  a  notorious 
jettatrice.  Look  at  poor  Adele  herself!  She  had  never 
been  well  since  that  dinner  at  which  the  reconciliation 
with  Laura  was  sealed  and  ratified.  Pietro  Ghisleri 
should  be  careful.  It  was  very  unwise  of  him  to  go  and 
see  her  every  day.  Something  awful  would  happen  to 
him.  Indeed  it  had  been  noticed  that  he  was  not  looking 
at  all  well  of  late.  That  dreadful  woman  would  kill  him 
to  a  certainty. 

G-hisleri  was  furious  when  the  tale  reached  him,  as  it 
did  before  long.  He  knew  very  well  how  dangerous  a 
thing  it  was  to  have  the  reputation  of  possessing  the  evil 
eye.  It  is  a  strange  fact  that  at  the  present  day  such 
things  should  be  believed,  and  well-nigh  universally,  by 
a  cultured  society  of  men  and  women.  And  yet  it  is  a 
fact,  and  an  undeniable  one.  Let  it  once  get  abroad  that* 
a  man  or  a  woman  "  projects  "  —  to  translate  the  Italian 
"  jetta  "  —  the  baneful  influence  which  causes  accidents  of 
every  description,  and  he  or  she  may  as  well  bid  farewell 
to  society  forever.  Such  a  person  is  shunned  as  one 
contaminated ;  at  his  approach,  every  hand  is  hidden  to 
make  the  sign  of  defence ;  no  one  will  speak  to  him  who 
can  help  it,  and  then  always  with  concealed  fingers  kept 
rigidly  bent  in  the  orthodox  fashion,  or  clasped  upon  a 
charm  of  proved  efficacy.  Few,  indeed,  are  those  brave 
enough  to  ask  such  a  man  to  dinner,  and  they  are  esteemed 
almost  miraculously  fortunate  if  no  misfortune  befalls 
them  during  the  succeeding  four  and  twenty  hours,  if 
their  houses  do  not  burn,  and  their  children  do  not  develop 
the  measles.  Incredible  as  it  may  appear  to  northern 
people,  a  man  or  woman  may  be  socially  ruined  by  the 
imputation  of  "projecting,"  when  it  is  sustained  by  the 
coinciding  of  the  very  smallest  accident  with  their  pres- 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  167 

ence,  or  with  the  mention  of  their  names,  and  quite 
enough  of  such  coincidences  were  actually  noted  in  Laura's 
case  to  make  the  reputation  of  being  a  jettatrice  cling  to 
her  for  life.  Ghisleri  knew  this,  and  his  wrath  was  kin 
dled,  and  smouldered,  and  grew  hot,  till  it  was  ready  to 
burst  out  at  a  moment's  notice  and  do  considerable 
damage. 

"It  is  an  abominable  shame,"  he  said  to  Maddalena 
delP  Armi.  "It  is  all  Adele  Savelli's  doing.  She  has 
taken  a  new  departure.  Instead  of  starting  bad  reports 
as  true,  she  begins  by  denying  things  of  which  nobody 
ever  heard.  I  am  quite  sure  she  is  at  the  bottom  of  it, 
but  I  do  not  see  how  I  can  stop  the  story." 

"You  seem  to  care  a  great  deal,"  said  Maddalena. 

"Yes.  I  do  care.  If  it  would  do  any  good,  I  would 
call  out  Francesco  Savelli  and  fight  about  it." 

"For  Laura  Arden's  sake?"  It  was  the  first  time  she 
had  ever  heard  Ghisleri  even  hint  that  he  would  do  so 
much  for  any  one,  though  she  knew  that  he  would  for 
herself. 

"  No, "  he  answered,  with  sudden  gentleness.  "  Not  for 
Lady  Herbert's  sake,  my  dear  lady.  I  would  do  it  be 
cause,  just  when  he  was  dying,  Arden  told  me  that  I  must 
take  care  of  her,  and  I  mean  to  do  my  best,  as  I  promised 
him." 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  answered  Maddalena,  taking  his 
hand  and  pressing  it  a  little.  "  I  would  not  have  you  do 
otherwise,  if  I  could  —  if  I  had  all  the  influence  over  you 
which  I  have  not.  But  oh  —  if  you  can  help  fighting  — 
please  —  for  my  sake,  if  you  care  —  " 

Maddalena' s  cold  face  and  small  classic  features  ex 
pressed  a  great  deal  at  that  moment,  and  there  were 
bright  tears  in  her  violet  eyes.  In  her  own  way  she 
loved  him  more  than  ever.  He  was  deeply  touched  as 
he  tenderly  kissed  the  hand  that  held  his. 

"  For  your  sake,  I  will  do  all  that  a  man  can  do  to  avoid 
a  quarrel,"  he  said  earnestly. 

"I  know  you  will,"  she  answered. 


168  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

During  a  few  moments  there  was  silence  between  them, 
and  Maddalena  recovered  control  of  herself. 

"That  is  the  true  reason  why  I  ask  you,"  she  said. 
"  There  are  plenty  of  others  which  you  may  care  for  more 
than  I.  You  would  not  care  to  have  it  said  that  you  were 
fighting  her  battles.  Will  you  promise  not  to  be  angry 
if  I  tell  you  something  you  will  not  like  — -something  I 
know  positively?  " 

"Yes.     I  promise.     What  is  it?" 

"  People  are  beginning  to  say  already  that  you  are  mak 
ing  love  to  her,  and  that  you  are  always  at  the  house." 

"The  brutes!"  exclaimed  Ghisleri,  fiercely.  "Who 
says  that?" 

"  The  women,  of  course.  The  men  are  much  too  sensi 
ble,  and  none  of  them  care  to  quarrel  with  you." 

"  Oh !  "  Pietro  contented  himself  with  the  exclama 
tion,  and  controlled  his  anger  as  best  he  could. 

"Was  I  wrong  to  tell  you?"  asked  Maddalena. 

"No,  indeed.  I  am  very  glad  you  have  told  me.  I 
shall  be  more  careful  in  future." 

"  It  will  make  very  little  difference.  You  know  the 
world  as  well  as  I  do,  and  better.  People  have  begun  to 
say  that  you  go  to  see  Lady  Herbert  every  day  —  they 
will  still  say  it  after  you  have  not  been  to  her  house  for 
months." 

"Yes.  That  is  the  way  the  world  talks.  I  hope  this 
will  not  reach  her  ears  —  though  I  suppose  it  ultimately 
will.  Some  dear  kind  friend  will  go  and  tell  her  in  con 
fidence,  and  give  her  good  advice." 

"  Probably.  That  is  generally  the  way.  Only,  as  she 
is  in  deep  mourning  and  receives  very  few  people,  it  may 
be  a  little  longer  than  usual  in  such  cases  before  the 
affectionate  friend  gets  at  her.  Then,  too,  the  idea  that 
she  is  a  jettatrice  will  keep  many  of  her  old  acquaintances 
away.  You  know  how  seriously  they  take  those  things 
here." 

It  will  be  remembered  that  both  Maddalena  and  Ghis 
leri  were  from  the  north  of  Italy,  where  the  superstition 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  169 

about  the  evil  eye  is  much  less  general  amongst  the  upper 
classes  than  in  Eome  and  the  south.  Pietro  himself  had 
not  the  slightest  belief  in  it,  and  he  had  so  often  laughed 
at  it  in  conversation  with  the  Contessa  that  if  she  had 
ever  had  any  vague  tendency  to  put  faith  in  the  jetta- 
tura,  it  had  completely  disappeared.  But  both  of  them 
were  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  society  in  which  they 
lived,  and  understood  the  position  in  which  Laura  was 
placed. 

"I  will  help  you  as  much  as  I  can,"  said  Maddalena, 
"  though  I  cannot  do  much.  At  all  events,  I  can  laugh 
at  the  whole  thing  and  show  that  I  do  not  believe  in  it. 
But  as  for  the  rest,  —  placed  as  I  am,  I  can  hardly  make 
an  intimate  friend  of  Lady  Herbert  Arden,  much  as  I  like 
her." 

She  spoke  sadly  and  a  little  bitterly.  Ghisleri  made 
no  reference  to  the  last  remark  when  he  answered  her. 

"  I  shall  be  very  sincerely  grateful  for  anything  you 
can  do  to  help  the  wife  of  my  old  friend,"  he  said. 
"  And  I  think  you  can  do  a  good  deal.  You  have  great 
influence  in  the  gay  set  —  and  that  means  the  people  who 
talk  the  most  —  Donna  Adele,  Donna  Maria  Boccapaduli, 
the  Marchesa  di  San  Giacinto,  and  all  the  rest,  who  are, 
more  or  less,  your  intimates.  It  is  very  good  of  you  to 
help  me  —  Lady  Herbert  needs  all  the  help  she  can  get. 
Spicca  is  a  useful  man,  too.  If  he  can  be  prevailed  upon 
to  say  something  particularly  witty  at  the  right  moment, 
it  will  do  good." 

"I  rarely  see  him,"  said  Maddalena.  "He  does  not 
like  me,  I  believe." 

"He  admires  you,  at  all  events,"  answered  Ghisleri. 
"  I  have  heard  him  talk  about  your  beauty  in  the  most 
enthusiastic  way,  and  he  is  rarely  enthusiastic  about 
anything. " 

Maddalena  was  pleased,  as  was  natural.  She  chanced 
to  be  in  one  of  her  best  humours  on  that  day,  and  indeed 
of  late  she  had  been  much  more  her  former  self  when  she 
was  with  Ghisleri.  A  month  earlier,  the  discussion 


170  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

about  Laura  Arden  could  not  have  passed  off  so  peace 
ably,  for  the  Contessa  would  then  have  resented  anything 
approaching  to  the  intimacy  which  now  appeared  to  exist 
between  Lady  Herbert  and  Pietro.  The  latter  wondered 
what  change  had  taken  place  in  her  character,  but  accepted 
her  gentle  behaviour  towards  him  very  gratefully  as  a 
relief  from  a  former  phase  of  jealous  fault-finding  which 
had  cost  him  many  moments  of  bitterness.  As  he  saw, 
from  time  to  time,  how  her  cold  face  softened,  he  almost 
believed  that  he  loved  her  as  dearly  as  ever,  though  the 
illusion  was  not  of  long  duration.  He  left  her,  on  that 
afternoon,  with  a  regret  which  he  had  not  felt  for  some 
time  at  the  moment  of  parting,  and  he  would  gladly  have 
stayed  with  her  longer.  They  agreed  to  meet  in  the 
evening  at  one  of  the  embassies,  where  there  was  to  be 
a  dance.  In  the  mean  time,  they  were  to  dine  out  at 
different  houses,  and  the  Contessa  had  a  visit  to  make 
before  going  to  the  ball. 

Pietro  was  sorry  that  he  had  promised  not  to  quarrel 
about  the  story  of  the  evil  eye.  The  affair  irritated  him 
to  an  extraordinary  degree,  and  though  he  had  grown 
calmer  under  Maddalena's  influence,  his  anger  revived  as 
he  walked  home  and  thought  over  it  all.  He  dined  that 
evening  in  Casa  San  Giacinto,  and  found  himself  placed 
between  Donna  Maria  Boccapaduli  and  Donna  Christina 
Campodonico.  The  latter  was  a  slim,  dark,  graceful 
woman  of  five  and  twenty,  remarkably  quiet,  and  reported 
to  be  very  learned,  a  fact  which  contributed  less  to  her 
popularity  than  her  own  beauty  and  her  husband's  rather 
exceptional  reputation.  Gianforte  Campodonico  was  a 
man  whom  Ghisleri  would  have  liked  if  they  had  not 
known  each  other  some  years  previously  in  circumstances 
which  made  liking  an  impossibility.  He  respected  him 
more  than  most  people,  for  he  had  fought  a  rather  serious 
duel  with  him  in  days  gone  by,  and  had  seen  the  man's  cour 
age  and  determination.  Campodonico  was  the  brother  of 
the  beautiful  Princess  Corleone  who  had  died  in  Naples 
shortly  after  the  above-mentioned  duel,  and  who  was  said 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  171 

to  have  been  the  love  of  Ghisleri's  life.  Gianforte,  for 
his  sister's  sake,  had  made  up  his  mind  to  kill  Ghisleri 
or  to  die  in  the  attempt,  with  a  desperate  energy  of  pur 
pose  that  savoured  of  earlier  ages.  He  was,  moreover, 
a  first  rate  swordsman,  and  the  encounter  had  remained 
memorable  in  the  annals  of  duelling.  Ghisleri  had  done 
all  in  his  power  to  avoid  the  necessity  of  fighting  at  all, 
but  Campodonico  had  forced  him  into  it  at  last,  and  the 
weapons  had  been  foils.  The  world  said  that  Ghisleri 
was  not  to  be  killed  so  easily.  He  was  as  good  a  fencer 
as  his  adversary,  and  was  left-handed  besides,  which  gave 
him  a  considerable  advantage.  The  result  was  that  he 
defended  himself  successfully  throughout  one  of  the 
longest  duels  on  record,  until  at  last  he  almost  uninten 
tionally  ran  Gianforte  through  the  sword  arm  and  dis 
abled  him.  The  latter,  humiliated  and  furious  at  his 
defeat,  had  demanded  pistols  then  and  there,  and  Ghisleri 
had  professed  himself  ready,  and  had  placed  himself  in 
the  hands  of  his  seconds.  But  both  his  own  friends  and 
Gianforte's  decided  that  honour  was  satisfied,  and  refused 
to  be  parties  to  any  further  fighting,  so  that  Campodonico 
had  been  obliged  to  accept  their  verdict.  He  sought  an 
opportunity  of  quarrelling  again,  however,  for  he  was  a 
determined  man,  and  he  would  probably  have  succeeded 
in  the  end;  but  at  this  juncture  the  Princess  died  after 
a  short  illness,  and  after  exacting  a  solemn  promise  from 
both  men  that  they  would  never  fight  again.  That  was 
the  last  act  of  her  brief  life  of  love  and  unhappiness,  and 
it  was  at  least  a  good  one.  Loving  her  with  all  their 
hearts,  in  their  different  ways,  both  Ghisleri  and  Cam 
podonico  respected  the  obligation  they  had  taken  as  some 
thing  supremely  sacred.  Ghisleri  went  and  lived  alone 
in  a  remote  village  of  the  south  for  more  than  a  year 
afterwards,  and  Gianforte  spent  an  even  longer  period  in 
almost  total  seclusion  from  the  world,  and  in  the  sole 
society  of  his  widowed  mother.  Three  years  before  the 
time  now  reached  in  this  chronicle,  he  had  married,  as 
people  said,  for  love,  and  for  once  people  were  right. 


172  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

His  elder  brother  bore  the  title,  and  as  there  was  another 
sister  besides  the  Princess  Corleone,  Gianforte's  portion 
had  been  small,  for  the  family  was  not  rich,  and  he  and 
his  wife  lived  very  modestly  in  a  small  apartment  in  the 
upper  part  of  the  city,  the  Palazzo  Campodonico  having 
long  ago  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  Savelli. 

And  now,  at  the  San  Giacinto's  dinner  table,  Ghisleri 
found  himself  seated  next  to  Donna  Christina,  and  nearly 
opposite  to  her  husband.  It  had  long  been  known  and 
generally  understood  that  Pietro  and  Gianforte  had  bur 
ied  their  enmity  with  the  beautiful  woman  about  whom 
they  had  fought,  and  that  they  had  no  objection  to  meet 
ing  in  the  world,  and  even  to  conversing  occasionally  on 
general  subjects,  so  that  there  was  nothing  surprising  in 
the  fact  that  at  a  dinner  of  eighteen  persons  they  should 
be  asked  together.  It  chanced  that,  by  the  inevitable 
law  of  precedence,  Ghisleri  sat  where  he  did.  Donna 
Christina  of  course  knew  the  story  above  related,  and  in 
her  eyes  it  lent  Ghisleri  a  somewhat  singular  interest. 

Now  it  happened,  towards  the  end  of  dinner,  that  some 
one  mentioned  Lady  Herbert  Arden.  Instantly  Donna 
Maria,  on  Pietro' s  right,  made  the  sign  of  the  horns  with 
both  hands,  laughing  in  a  foolish  way  at  the  same  time. 
Ghisleri  saw  it,  and  a  glance  round  the  table  showed  him 
that  the  majority  of  the  guests  did  the  same  thing. 

"How  can  you  believe  in  such  silly  tales?"  he  asked, 
turning  to  Donna  Maria. 

"  Everybody  does, "  answered  the  sprightly  lady.  "  Why 
should  not  I?  And  besides,  look  at  the  facts  — San 
Giacinto  had  the  name  of  the  lady  we  do  not  mention  on 
his  lips  when  he  broke  that  chair  the  other  day  —  there, 
I  told  you  so !  "  she  exclaimed  suddenly. 

Young  Pietrasanta,  who,  as  it  happened,  had  been  the 
one  to  speak  of  Laura  Arden,  had  upset  a  glass,  which, 
being  very  delicate  and  falling  against  a  piece  of  massive 
silver,  was  shivered  instantly.  The  claret  ran  out  in  a 
broad  stain. 

"  Allegria  —  joy !  "   laughed   the   lady  of    the   house. 


PIETKO   GHISLEKI. 


173 


Italians  very  often  utter  this  exclamation  when  wine  is 
spilled.  It  is  probably  a  survival  of  some  primeval 
superstition. 

"Joy!"  repeated  Pietrasanta,   with  quite  a  ditterent 
intonation.     "  If  ever  I  mention  that  name  again ! ' 

"  You  see,"  said  Donna  Maria  triumphantly  to  Ghisleri. 
"There  is  no  doubt  about  it." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  for  contradicting  you,"  answered 
Ghisleri,  coldly,  "but  I  think  there  is  so  much  doubt  that 
I  do  not  believe  in  the  possibility  of  the  evil  eye  at  all, 
much  less  in  the  ridiculous  story  that  Lady  Herbert 
Arden's  name  can  upset  a  glass  of  wine  or  break  a  chair." 
"I  agree  with  you,"  said  Donna  Christina,  in  her  quiet 
voice,  on  Pietro's  other  side.  "It  is  almost  the  only 
point  on  which  my  husband  and  I  differ  — is  it  not  true, 
Gianforte?"  she  asked,  speaking  across  the  table  to 
Campodonico.  There  had  been  a  momentary  lull  in  the 
conversation  after  the  little  accident,  so  that  he  had  heard 
what  had  been  said. 

"It  is  quite  true,"  he  answered.     "I  believe  in  the 
jettatura,  just  as  most  people  do,  but  my  wife  is  a  sceptic. " 
"  And  do  you  really  believe  that  Pietrasanta  upset  his 
glass  because  he  mentioned  Lady  Herbert?  "  asked  Pietro. 
"Yes,  I  do."    Their  eyes  met  quietly  as  they  looked  at 
each  other,  but  the  whole  party  became  silent,  and  lis 
tened  to  the  remarks  exchanged  by  the  two  men  who  had 
once  fought  such  a  memorable  fight. 

Gianforte  Campodonico  was  a  very  dark  man,  of 
medium  height,  strongly  built,  and  not  yet  of  an  age  to 
be  stout,  with  bold  aquiline  features,  keen  black  eyes, 
and  a  prominent  chin.  A  somewhat  too  heavy  moustache 
almost  quite  concealed  his  mouth.  At  first  sight,  most 
people  would  have  taken  him  for  a  soldier.  Of  his  type 
he  was  very  handsome. 

"  Can  you  give  any  good  reason  for  believing  in  any 
thing  so  improbable?"  asked  Ghisleri. 

"There  are  plenty  of  facts,"  answered  Campodonico, 
calmly.  "  Any  one  here  will  give  you  fifty  —  a  hundred 


174  PIETKO   GH1SLERI. 

instances,  so  many  indeed,  that  you  cannot  attribute  them 
all  to  coincidence.  Do  you  not  agree  with  me,  Mar- 
chese?"  he  asked,  appealing  to  the  master  of  the  house, 
whose  opinion  was  often  asked  by  men,  and  generally 
accepted. 

"I  suppose  I  do,"  said  the  giant,  indifferently.  "I 
never  took  the  trouble  to  think  of  it.  Most  of  us  believe 
in  the  evil  eye.  But  as  for  this  story  about  Lady  Her 
bert  Arden,  I  think  it  is  nonsense  in  the  first  place,  and 
a  malicious  lie  in  the  second,  invented  by  some  person  or 
persons  unknown  —  or  perhaps  very  well  known  to  some 
of  you.  Half  of  it  rests  on  that  absurd  story  about  the 
chair  I  broke  in  Casa  Frangipani.  If  any  of  you  can 
grow  to  be  of  my  size,  you  will  know  how  easily  chairs 
are  broken." 

There  was  a  laugh  at  his  remark,  in  which  Campodonico 
joined. 

"  But  it  is  true  that  you  were  speaking  of  the  lady  one 
does  not  mention  at  the  moment  when  the  chair  gave 
way,"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  said  San  Giacinto,  "I  admit  that." 

"I  agree  with  San  Giacinto,  though  I  do  not  believe  in 
the  evil  eye  at  all,"  said  Ghisleri.  "And  I  will  go  a 
little  further,  and  say  that  I  think  it  malicious  to  encour 
age  the  stoiy  about  Lady  Herbert.  She  has  had  trouble 
enough  as  it  is,  without  adding  to  it  gratuitously." 

"  I  do  not  see  that  we  are  doing  her  any  harm, "  observed 
Campodonico. 

"The  gossip  may  be  perfectly  indifferent  to  her  now," 
said  Ghisleri.  "  She  is  most  probably  quite  ignorant  of 
what  is  said.  But  in  the  natural  course  of  events,  two  or 
three  years  hence  she  will  go  into  the  world  again,  and 
you  know  what  an  injury  it  will  be  to  her  then." 

"  You  are  looking  very  far  ahead,  it  seems  to  me.  As 
for  wishing  to  do  her  an  injury,  as  you  call  it,  why 
should  I?" 

"  Exactly.     Why  should  you?  " 

"I  do  not." 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  175 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  think  every  one  who  contributes 
to  the  circulation  of  this  fable  does  harm  to  Lady  Her 
bert,  most  distinctly." 

"  In  other  words,  we  are  not  of  the  same  opinion, "  said 
Campodonico,  in  a  tone  of  irritation. 

"And  I  express  mine  because  poor  Arden  was  my 
oldest  friend, "  answered  Ghisleri,  with  the  utmost  calm. 
"If  I  cannot  persuade  you,  let  us  agree  to  differ." 

"  By  all  means, "  replied  Gianf orte,  and  he  turned  and 
began  to  talk  with  the  lady  on  his  right. 

Donna  Christina  leaned  towards  Ghisleri  and  spoke  to 
him  in  a  very  low  voice,  quite  inaudible  to  other  ears 
than  his,  as  the  hum  of  general  conversation  rose  again. 

"Is  it  true,"  she  asked,  "that  you  and  my  husband 
agreed,  years  ago,  that  you  would  never  quarrel  again?" 

Ghisleri  looked  at  her  in  cold  surprise.  He  was  amazed 
that  she  should  refer  to  that  part  of  his  past  life,  of  which 
no  one  ever  spoke  to  him. 

"  It  is  true, "  he  answered  briefly. 

"I  am  very  glad,"  said  Donna  Christina.  "I  thought 
you  were  near  a  quarrel  just  now  about  this  absurd  affair. 
You  hate  each  other,  and  Gianf  orte  is  very  hot-tempered." 

"  There  is  no  danger.  But  I  am  sorry  you  think  that 
I  hate  your  husband.  He  is  one  of  the  few  men  whom 
I  really  respect.  There  are  other  reasons  why  I  should 
not  hate  him,  and  why  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  he 
hates  me  with  all  his  heart,  as  I  dare  say  he  does,  from 
what  you  say." 

He  glanced  at  her,  but  she  did  not  answer  at  once. 
She  was  still  young  and  truthful,  and  it  did  not  occur  to 
her  to  be  tactful  at  the  expense  of  veracity. 

"  I  am  glad  you  defended  Lady  Herbert  as  you  did, " 
she  said,  after  a  short  pause.  "It  was  nice  of  you." 
Then  she  turned  and  talked  with  the  man  on  her  other 
side. 

1  Donna  Maria  Boccapaduli  had  been  waiting  for  her 
opportunity  and  attacked  Ghisleri  as  soon  as  he  had 
ceased  talking  with  his  other  neighbour. 


PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said,  "you  like  Laura  Arden  very  much, 
do  you  not?"  Of  course  she  made  the  sign  at  Laura's 
name. 

"  Yes.     She  is  a  very  charming  woman." 

"  She  ought  to  be  grateful  to  you.  She  would  be,  if 
she  knew  how  you  stood  up  for  her  just  now." 

"  I  should  be  sorry  if  she  ever  came  to  know  that  she 
needed  to  be  defended, "  answered  Ghisleri,  almost  indif 
ferently. 

"  She  will,  of  course.  It  will  be  all  over  Rome  to-night 
that  you  and  Campodonico  almost  quarrelled  about  her. 
She  is  sure  to  hear  about  it.  Why  do  you  take  so  much 
interest  in  her?" 

"Because  her  husband  was  my  friend,"  Pietro  replied, 
rather  wearily.  "I  just  said  so." 

"  You  need  not  be  so  angry  with  me  because  I  ask  ques 
tions,"  said  Donna  Maria  with  a  laugh.  "I  always  do 
—  it  is  the  way  to  find  out  what  one  wants  to  know." 

"  And  what  do  you  want  to  know?  " 

"You  will  be  angry  if  I  ask  you." 

"Then  ask  me  something  else." 

"But  I  want  to  know  so  much,"  objected  Donna  Maria, 
with  an  expression  that  made  Ghisleri  smile. 

"  Then  you  must  take  the  risk, "  he  said.  "  It  is  not 
very  great." 

"Well,  then,  I  will."  She  dropped  her  voice  almost 
to  a  whisper.  "  Is  the  lady  in  question  —  I  mean  —  is 
she  the  sort  of  woman  you  can  imagine  falling  in  love 
with?" 

"  I  do  not  think  I  should  ever  fall  in  love  with  her, " 
answered  Ghisleri,  without  betraying  emotion  or  surprise. 

"Why  not?  There  must  be  some  reason.  So  many 
men  have  said  the  same  thing  about  her." 

"  She  is  too  good  a  woman  for  any  of  us  to  love.  We  feel 
that  she  is  too  far  above  us  to  be  quite  human  as  we  are." 

"What  a  strange  man  you  are,  Ghisleri!  I  should 
never  have  dreamt  that  you  could  say  such  a  thing  as 
that.  It  is  not  at  all  like  your  reputation  you  know,  and 


PIETEO   GHISLERI.  177 

not  in  the  least  like  those  delightfully  dreadful  verses 
you  addressed  to  the  saint  last  year  on  Shrove  Tuesday 
at  Gouache's  studio.  I  should  think  that  Mephistopheles 
would  delight  in  making  love  to  saints." 

"  In  real  life  Mephistopheles  would  get  the  worst  of 
it,  and  be  shown  to  the  door  with  very  little  ceremony." 

"  I  doubt  that.  Every  woman  likes  a  spice  of  devilry 
in  the  man  she  loves  —  and  as  for  being  shown  to  the 
door,  that  is  ridiculous.  Is  there  any  reason  in  the 
world  why  you  should  not  fall  in  love  with  a  woman  ex 
actly  like  the  unmentionable  lady  and  marry  her,  too, 
if  you  love  her  enough  —  or  little  enough,  according  to 
your  views  of  married  life?  You  are  quite  free,  and  so 
is  she,  and  you  said  yourself  that  in  the  course  of  time 
she  would  naturally  come  back  to  the  world." 

"  No, "  said  Ghisleri,  thoughtfully,  "  I  suppose  there  is 
no  reason  why  I  should  not  ask  Lady  Herbert  Arden  to 
marry  me  in  four  or  five  years,  except  that  I  do  not  love 
her  in  the  least,  and  that  she  would  most  certainly  refuse 
me.  And  those  are  two  very  good  reasons." 

The  dinner  was  over  and  the  party  returned  to  the 
drawing-room.  Ghisleri  stood  a  little  apart  from  the  rest, 
examining  a  painting  with  which  he  had  long  been  famil 
iar,  and  slowly  inhaling  the  smoke  of  a  cigarette.  It  was 
a  small  copy  of  one  of  Zichy's  famous  pictures  illustrat 
ing  Lermontoff's  "Demon"  —  the  one  in  which  Tamara 
yields  at  last,  in  the  convent,  and  throws  her  arms  round 
the  Demon's  neck.  Prince  Durakoff  had  ordered  the  copy 
and  had  presented  it  to  the  Marchesa  di  San  Giacinto. 
Ghisleri  had  always  liked  it,  and  had  a  photograph  of 
the  original  in  his  rooms.  He  now  stood  looking  at  it 
and  recalling  the  strange,  half  allegorical  romance  of 
which  the  great  Russian  made  such  wonderful  poetry. 

Presently  he  was  aware  that  some  one  was  standing  at 
his  elbow.  He  turned  to  see  who  it  was,  and  found  him 
self  face  to  face  with  Gianforte  Campodonico,  who  was 
looking  at  him  with  an  expression  of  indescribable  hatred 
in  his  black  eyes. 


178  PIETEO   GHISLEBI. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

PIETRO  at  once  realised  the  situation  and  the  meaning 
of  the  look  he  saw.  Something  was  passing  in  his  old 
enemy's  mind  which  had  passed  through  his  own  while 
he  was  looking  at  the  picture,  for  Campodonico  and  Ghis- 
leri  were  both  thinking  of  the  extraordinary  resemblance 
between  poor  Bianca  Corleone  and  the  Tamara  of  Zichy's 
painting.  That  resemblance,  striking  in  a  high  degree, 
was  the  reason  why  Ghisleri  liked  it,  and  had  a  photo 
graph  of  it  at  his  lodging.  He  regretted  now  that  he 
should  have  been  so  tactless  as  to  stand  long  before  it 
when  Campodonico  was  in  the  room.  It  was  too  late, 
however,  and  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  meet 
the  man's  angry  look  quietly,  and  go  away.  It  was 
unfortunate  that  there  should  have  been  any  discussion 
between  them  at  dinner,  too,  for  Campodonico,  as  his 
wife  said,  was  hot-tempered  in  the  extreme,  and  Ghis 
leri,  though  outwardly  calm,  had  always  been  liable  to 
outbreaks  of  dangerous  anger.  There  was,  indeed,  in 
the  present  instance,  a  very  solemn  promise  given  to  a 
dying  woman  beloved  by  both,  to  keep  them  from  quar 
relling,  and  both  really  meant  to  respect  it  as  they  had 
done  in  past  years.  But  to  see  Ghisleri  calmly  contem 
plating  a  picture  which  seemed  intended  to  represent 
Bianca  Corleone  falling  into  the  arms  of  a  demon  lover, 
was  almost  too  much  for  the  equanimity  of  Gianforte, 
which  was  by  no  means  at  any  time  very  stable.  More 
over,  he  not  only  hated  Ghisleri  with  his  whole  heart  as 
much  as  ever,  but  he  despised  him  quite  as  much  as 
Pietro  despised  himself,  and  probably  a  little  more.  He 
would  never  have  forgiven  him,  at  the  best ;  but  he  might 
have  respected  him  if  Ghisleri  had  honoured  Bianca's 
memory  by  leading  a  different  life.  It  made  his  blood 
sting  to  think  that  a  man  who  had  been  loved  to  the  latest 
breath  by  such  a  woman  as  Bianca  should  throw  himself 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  179 

at  the  feet  of  Maddalena  dell'  Armi  — not  to  mention 
any  of  the  others  for  whom  Pietro  had  felt  an  ephemeral 
passion  during  the  last  six  years  and  more.  And  Pietro, 
on  his  side,  knew  that  Campodonico  was  right  in  judging 
him  as  he  judged  himself,  harshly  and  without  mercy. 
Unfortunately,  Pietro's  judgments  on  himself  generally 
came  too  late,  when  the  evil  he  hated  had  already  been 
done,  and  self-condemnation  was  of  very  little  use.  He 
had  great  temptations,  too  —  far  greater  than  most  men, 
and  was  fatally  attracted  by  difficulty  in  any  shape. 

On  the  present  occasion  he  really  desired  to  avoid 
doing  the  least  thing  which  could  irritate  Campodonico, 
and  if  the  latter  had  not  done  what  he  did  Pietro  would 
certainly  have  gone  quietly  away.  He  could  not  help 
being  a  little  surprised  at  the  persistent  stare  of  his  old 
adversary,  considering  that  for  years  they  had  met  and 
acted  with  perfectly  civil  indifference  towards  one  an 
other.  Nevertheless,  he  relit  his  cigarette  which  had 
gone  out,  and  made  a  step  towards  the  other  side  of  the 
room.  To  Campodonico,  the  calm  expression  of  his  face 
seemed  like  scorn,  and  he  became  exasperated  in  a  mo 
ment.  He  called  the  other  back.  They  were  at  some 
distance  from  the  other  guests,  and  out  of  hearing  if  they 
spoke  in  low  tones. 

"  Ghisleri !  "  Campodonico  pronounced  the  name  he 
detested  with  an  almost  contemptuous  accent.  Pietro 
knew  that  an  exchange  of  unfriendly  words  was  inevita 
ble.  He  turned  instantly  and  came  close  to  Gianforte, 
standing  before  him  and  looking  down  into  his  fierce  eyes, 
for  he  was  by  far  the  taller  man. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked,  controlling  his  voice  wonder 
fully. 

"  Do  you  not  think  there  are  circumstances  under  which 
one  is  justified  in  breaking  a  solemn  promise?"  asked 
Campodonico. 

"No.     I  do  not." 

"I  do." 

"  I  am  very  sorry.  I  suppose  you  mean  to  say  that  you 
wish  to  quarrel  with  me  again.  Is  that  it?  " 


180  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

"Yes." 

"  You  will  find  it  hard.  I  shall  do  my  very  best  to  be 
patient  whatever  you  do  or  say.  In  the  first  place,  I 
begin  by  telling  you  that  I  sincerely  regret  having  irri 
tated  you  twice,  as  I  have  done  this  evening,  the  second 
time,  as  I  know,  very  seriously." 

"I  did  not  ask  you  for  an  apology,"  said  Gianforte, 
with  contempt. 

"  But  I  have  offered  you  one  which  you  will  find  it  hard 
not  to  accept." 

"You  were  not  formerly  so  ready  with  excuses.  I 
dare  say  you  have  grown  cautious  with  age,  though  you 
are  not  much  older  than  I." 

"Perhaps  I  have."  Ghisleri  grew  slowly  pale,  as  he 
bore  one  insult  after  the  other  for  the  dead  woman's  sake. 

"  In  other  words,  you  are  a  coward,"  said  Campodonico, 
lowering  his  voice  still  more. 

Pietro  opened  his  lips  and  shut  them  without  speak 
ing.  He  glanced  at  the  passionate  white  face  of  the 
woman  in  the  picture  before  he  answered. 

" I  do  not  think  so,"  he  said.  "But  I  make  no  pretence 
of  bravery.  Have  you  done?" 

"  No.  You  make  a  pretence  of  other  things  if  not  of 
courage.  You  pretend  that  you  will  not  quarrel  now 
because  of  the  promise  you  gave." 

"It  is  true." 

"I  do  not  believe  you." 

"I  am  sorry  for  it,"  answered  Pietro. 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  the  promise  binds 
us?  If  you  had  acted  as  a  man  should,  if  you  had  led  a 
life  that  showed  the  slightest  respect  for  that  memory, 
it  might  be  binding  on  me  still." 

"I  think  it  is."  Ghisleri  was  trembling  with  anger 
from  head  to  foot,  but  his  voice  was  still  steady. 

"  I  do  not, "  answered  Gianforte,  scornfully.  "  If  she 
were  here  to  judge  us,  if  she  could  see  that  the  man  who 
was  loved  to  the  last  by  Bianca  Corleone  —  God  give 
her  rest!  —  would  live  down  to  such  a  level,  would  live  to 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  181 

throw  himself  at  the  feet  of  a  Maddalena  delP  Armi  — 
ah,  I  have  touched  you  now !  —  she  would  —  " 

Ghisleri's  face  was  livid. 

"  She  whose  name  you  are  not  more  worthy  to  speak 
than  I,  never  meant  that  I  should  not  defend  a  good  and 
helpless  woman  because  the  liar  who  accuses  her  chances 
to  be  called  Gianforte  Campodonico." 

"And  the  one  who  defends  her,  Pietro  Ghisleri," 
retorted  Gianforte.  "  Where  can  my  friends  find  yours?  " 

"At  my  lodging,  if  that  suits  them." 

"Perfectly." 

Campodonico  turned  on  his  heel  and  slowly  went 
towards  the  group  at  the  other  end  of  the  room.  Ghis- 
leri  followed  him  at  a  distance,  lighting  a  fresh  cigarette 
as  he  walked.  He  had  recovered  his  composure  the 
moment  he  had  felt  himself  freed  from  the  obligation  to 
bear  the  insults  heaped  upon  him  by  Bianca  Corleone's 
brother. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  no  one  had  watched  the 
two  as  they  stood  talking  before  the  picture.  More  than 
one  person  had  noticed  the  fierce  look  in  Campodonico's 
eyes,  and  the  unnatural  paleness  of  Ghisleri's  face.  One 
of  these  was  Donna  Maria  Boccapaduli. 

"I  suppose  you  have  been  discussing  that  painting," 
she  said  carelessly  to  Pietro.  "People  always  do." 

"Yes,"  answered  Ghisleri,  as  indifferently  as  he  could. 

"And  what  was  the  result  of  the  discussion?" 

"  We  agreed  to  differ."   Pietro  laughed  a  little  harshly. 

As  soon  as  possible  he  excused  himself  and  got  away, 
for  he  had  only  just  the  time  necessary  to  find  a  couple 
of  friends  and  explain  matters,  before  going  to  the  ball  to 
meet  the  Contessa,  as  he  had  promised  to  do.  He  had 
forgotten  an  important  detail,  however,  and  as  he  passed 
Campodonico  who  was  also  going  away,  and  without  his 
wife,  on  pretence  of  an  engagement  at  the  club,  he  stopped 
him. 

"By  the  by,"  he  said,  "I  suppose  we  are  ostensibly 
quarrelling  about  a  painter,  or  something  of  that  sort." 


182  PIETRO    GHISLEKI. 

"Yes  —  anything.  Zichy,  for  instance.  Everybody 
saw  us  looking  at  the  picture.  You  like  it  and  I  do  not." 

"Very  well." 

So  they  parted,  to  meet,  in  all  probability,  at  dawn  on 
the  following  morning,  in  a  quiet  place  outside  the  city. 
Ghisleri  found  two  friends  in  whose  hands  he  placed  him 
self,  telling  them  that  he  was  quite  indifferent  to  the 
weapons,  and  only  desired  to  meet  his  adversary's  wishes 
as  far  as  possible,  since  the  affair  was  very  insignificant. 
He  remarked  in  an  indifferent  tone  that,  as  he  had  once 
fought  with  Campodonico,  using  foils,  and  as  the  latter 
had  not  seemed  satisfied  on  that  occasion,  he  had  no 
objection  to  pistols,  if  the  opposite  side  preferred  them. 
He  wished  everything  to  be  arranged  as  amicably  as  pos 
sible,  he  said,  and  without  any  undue  publicity.  He  left 
them  at  his  lodging  and  departed  to  keep  his  engagement 
at  the  embassy.  As  he  drove  through  the  bitter  air  in 
an  open  cab,  he  meditated  on  his  position,  and  wondered 
what  Maddalena  would  say  when  she  learned  that  he  had 
been  out  with  his  old  adversary.  She  should  not  know 
anything  about  the  encounter  until  it  was  over,  if  he 
could  keep  it  from  her.  At  all  events,  he  reflected,  he 
had  done  all  that  a  man  could  do  to  keep  out  of  a  quarrel, 
as  he  had  promised  her  he  would,  and  he  had  been  driven 
to  break  a  promise  of  a  far  more  sacred  nature  than  the 
one  he  had  given  her.  If  she  knew  the  truth,  too,  it  was 
for  her,  and  for  her  alone,  that  he  was  to  fight.  He  won 
dered  whether  people  would  say  it  was  for  Laura  Arden's 
sake,  on  account  of  the  discussion  about  the  evil  eye  which 
had  taken  place  at  table.  The  suggestion  annoyed  him 
very  much,  but  he  reached  his  destination  before  he  had 
found  time  to  reason  out  the  whole  case,  or  to  decide 
what  to  do.  In  any  event  it  would  be  better  if  people 
thought  that  he  had  taken  the  foils  in  defence  of  an 
unprotected  widow  like  Laura,  than  for  the  good  name 
of  the  Contessa  dell'  Armi. 

She  was  there  before  him,  looking  very  lovely  in  a 
gown  of  palest  green,  half  covered  with  old  lace.  The 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  183 

shade  suited  her  fair  hair  and  dazzling  skin,  and  she 
looked  taller  in  faint  colours,  as  short  women  do.  He 
found  her  seated  in  one  of  the  smaller  rooms  through 
which  he  had  to  pass  on  his  way  to  the  great  ball-room, 
and  she  was  surrounded  by  four  or  five  men  of  the  gay 
set,  all  talking  to  her  at  once,  all  trying  to  be  extremely 
witty,  and  all  wishing  that  the  others  would  go  away. 
But  the  Contessa  held  her  own  with  them,  making  no 
distinction,  and  keeping  up  the  lively,  empty,  rattling 
conversation  without  any  apparent  difficulty.  Pietro  sat 
down  in  the  circle,  and  made  a  remark  from  time  to  time, 
to  which  she  generally  gave  a  direct  answer,  until,  little 
by  little,  she  was  talking  with  him  alone,  and  the  others 
began  to  drop  away  as  they  always  did  in  the  course  of 
half  an  hour  when  Ghisleri  appeared  in  Maddalena's 
neighbourhood.  It  was  a  thing  perfectly  understood,  as 
a  matter  not  even  worth  mentioning. 

"  Will  you  get  me  something  to  drink?  "  she  said  when 
only  Spicca  was  left  by  her  side. 

Pietro  went  off  towards  the  supper-room,  which  was 
rather  distant,  and  as  a  dance  was  just  over  and  the  place 
was  crowded,  it  was  some  minutes  before  he  could  get 
what  he  wanted,  and  go  back  to  her  with  it.  Spicca 
looked  at  him  with  an  odd  expression  of  something  be 
tween  amusement  and  sympathy  as  he  rose  and  left  the 
two  together,  and  Ghisleri  at  once  saw  that  something 
unusual  had  occurred  in  his  absence,  for  Maddalena  was 
very  pale,  and  her  hand  shook  violently  as  she  took  the 
glass  he  brought  her. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  he  asked  anxiously,  as  he  sat 
down. 

"Something  very  disagreeable  has  happened,"  she 
answered,  looking  round  nervously. 

The  sofa  on  which  they  sat  stood  out  from  one  side  of 
a  marble  pillar,  with  its  back  to  the  side  of  the  room  the 
guests  crossed  who  went  directly  to  the  ball-room,  and 
facing  the  side  by  which  they  went  from  the  ball-room  to 
the  rooms  beyond,  and  to  the  supper-room,  for  there  were 


184  PIETKO   GHISLERI. 

four  doors,  opposite  each  other,  two  of  which  opened  into 
the  great  hall  where  the  dancing  was  going  on.  Madda- 
lena  was  seated  at  the  end  of  the  sofa  which  was  against 
the  pillar,  so  that  a  person  passing  through  behind  her 
might  easily  not  notice  her  presence. 

"Pray  tell  me  what  it  is,"  said  Ghisleri. 

"  Just  as  you  went  to  get  me  the  lemonade,  I  heard  two 
people  talking  in  a  low  voice  behind  me,"  said  Madda- 
lena.  "  They  must  have  stopped  first  by  the  door  —  I 
looked  round  afterwards  and  saw  them,  but  I  do  not  know 
either  of  them  —  some  new  people  from  one  of  the  other 
embassies,  or  merely  foreigners  here  on  a  visit.  They 
spoke  rather  bad  French.  There  was  a  man  and  a  lady. 
They  saw  you  cross  the  room  and  the  lady  asked  the  man 
who  you  were,  and  the  man  told  her,  saying  that  he  only 
knew  you  by  sight.  The  lady  uttered  an  exclamation, 
and  said  that  you  were  the  one  man  in  Rome  whom  she 
wished  to  see  because  you  had  been  loved  by  —  you  know 
whom  I  mean  —  I  know  it  hurts  you  to  speak  of  her,  and 
I  understand  it.  The  man  laughed  and  said  there  had 
been  others  since,  and  that  there  was  especially  a  certain 
Marquise  d?  Armi,  as  he  called  me,  who  was  madly  in 
love  with  you.  The  most  amusing  part  of  the  whole 
thing,  concluded  the  man,  was  that  you  were  perfectly 
indifferent  to  her,  as  everybody  knew.  It  was  horrible, 
and  I  almost  fainted.  Dear  old  Spicca  went  on  talking, 
trying  to  prevent  me  from  hearing  them.  It  was  just  like 
him." 

The  Contessa's  lip  trembled,  and  her  eyes  glittered 
strangely  as  she  looked  at  Pietro. 

"It  is  horrible,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice.  He  had 
thought  that  he  had  felt  enough  emotions  during  that 
day,  but  he  was  mistaken.  Even  now  there  were  more 
in  store  for  him.  He  was  deeply  shocked,  for  he  guessed 
what  she  must  have  suffered. 

"  Horrible  —  yes !  But  oh  —  can  you  not  tell  me  it  is 
not  true?  Do  you  not  see  that  my  heart  is  breaking?" 

"  No,  dearest  lady, "  he  answered  tenderly,  trying  to 


PIETKO   GHISLEEI.  185 

soothe  her.  "Not  one  word  of  it  is  true.  How  can  you 
make  yourself  unhappy  by  thinking  such  a  thing?" 

Maddalena  drew  a  painful  breath.  He  spoke  very 
kindly,  but  there  was  no  ringing  note  of  passion  in  his 
voice  as  there  had  once  been.  With  a  sudden  determi 
nation  that  surprised  him,  she  rose  to  her  feet. 

"Take  me  to  the  ball-room/'  she  said  hurriedly.  "I 
shall  cry  if  I  stay  here." 

It  was  almost  a  relief  to  Ghisleri  to  see  her  accept  the 
first  man  who  presented  himself  as  a  partner  and  whirl 
away  with  him  into  the  great  hall.  He  stood  leaning 
against  the  marble  door-post,  watching  her  as  she  wound 
her  way  in  and  out  among  the  many  moving  couples. 
He  was  conscious  that  he  might  very  possibly  never  see 
her  again.  Campodonico  would  of  course  select  pistols, 
and  meant  to  kill  him  if  he  could.  He  might  succeed, 
though  duels  rarely  ended  fatally  now-a-days.  And  if 
he  did,  Maddalena  dell'  Armi  would  be  left  to  her  fate. 
He  was  horror-struck  when  he  thought  of  it.  She  might 
never  know  why  he  had  fought,  and  she  would  perhaps 
believe  to  her  last  day  that  he  had  sacrificed  his  life  for 
Laura  Arden.  He  could  leave  a  letter  for  her,  but  letters 
often  fell  into  the  wrong  hands  through  faithless  servants 
when  the  people  who  had  written  them  were  dead. 
Besides,  would  she  believe  his  words?  She  had  very 
little  faith  in  his  love  for  her.  He  sighed  bitterly  as  he 
thought  how  right  she  was  in  that.  He  could  see  the 
pale,  small,  classic  features,  and  the  half  pitiful,  half 
scornful  look  of  the  beautiful  mouth.  "  His  last  bit  of 
comedy!"  she  would  exclaim  to  herself,  as  she  tossed 
his  last  note  into  the  fire.  And  again  she  would  be  right, 
in  a  measure.  In  the  case  of  risking  sudden  death,  he 
said  to  himself  that  it  was  indeed  a  strange  bit  of  comedy. 
He  knew  that  he  did  not  love  her  as  he  should.  Why 
should  he  fight  for  her,  then? 

But  his  manliness  rose  up  at  this  and  smote  his  cyni 
cism  out  of  the  field  for  a  time.  That  little  he  owed 
Maddalena,  at  least  —  he  could  not  do  less  than  defend 


186  PIETKO    GHISLERI. 

her,  at  whatever  cost,  and  he  knew  well  enough  that  he 
always  would.  As  for  his  wish  that  she  might  know  it, 
that  was  nothing  but  his  own  detestable  vanity.  For  his 
own  part,  he  wished  with  all  his  heart  that  the  next 
morning  might  end  his  existence.  He  had  never  valued 
his  life  very  highly,  and  of  late  it  had  been  so  little  to 
his  taste  that  he  was  more  than  ready  to  part  with  it, 
even  violently.  The  future  did  not  appall  him,  although, 
strangely  enough,  he  was  very  far  from  being  an  unbe 
liever,  and  had  been  brought  up  to  consider  a  sudden  end, 
in  mortal  sin,  as  the  most  horrible  and  irreparable  of 
misfortunes.  To  him,  in  his  experience  of  himself,  no 
imaginable  suffering  could  be  worse  than  the  self-doubt, 
the  self-contempt,  and  the  self-hatred  which  had  so  often 
tormented  him  during  the  past  years.  If  he  were  to  be 
punished  for  his  misdeeds  with  the  same  torture,  even 
though  it  were  to  be  never-ending,  at  least  he  should 
bear  the  pain  of  it  alone,  such  as  it  was,  without  the 
necessity  for  hiding  it  and  for  going  through  the  daily 
mummery  of  life  with  an  indifferent  face.  And  in  that 
state  there  would  be  no  more  temptation  of  the  kind  he 
feared.  What  he  had  done  up  to  the  hour  of  death  would 
close  the  chronicle  of  evil,  and  in  all  ages  there  would  be 
no  more.  He  was  used  to  such  refinements  of  cruelty  as 
perdition  could  threaten  him  with,  for  he  had  practised 
them  upon  his  own  heart. 

So  the  man  "  who  did  not  care  "  stood  watching  the 
ball,  and  people  envied  him  his  successes,  and  his  past 
and  present  happiness,  and  all  that  he  had  enjoyed  in  his 
three-and-thirty  years  of  life,  little  dreaming  of  what  was 
even  then  passing  in  his  thoughts,  still  less  that  he  was 
waiting  for  the  message  which  should  inform  him  of  the 
place  and  hour  fixed  for  encountering  the  man  who  most 
hated  him  in  the  world,  and  who  had  once  before  vainly 
attempted  to  take  his  life. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  great  hall  the  Contessa  dell' 
Armi  had  paused  in  her  waltz  to  take  breath,  and  found 
herself  next  to  Donna  Maria  Boccapaduli. 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  187 

"  You  have  not  heard  the  news, "  said  the  latter  in  a 
low  voice,  bending  towards  Maddalena,  and  holding  up 
her  fan  before  her  face.  "We  have  all  been  dining  at 
Casa  San  Giacinto,  sixteen  of  us  besides  themselves  — 
the  two  Campodonico,  ourselves,  Pietrasanta  —  ever  so 
many  of  us.  Ghisleri  was  there,  next  to  me,  and  there 
was  a  discussion  about  the  evil  eye,  because  Pietrasanta 
broke  a  glass  just  as  he  uttered  the  name  of  the  lady  we 
do  not  mention  —  you  know  which  —  Ghisleri's  friend. 
And  then,  I  do  not  know  how  it  was,  but  Ghisleri  and 
Campodonico  contradicted  each  other  about  it,  because 
Campodonico  said  she  was  a  jettatrice  and  Ghisleri  said 
she  was  not,  you  know.  After  dinner  the  two  went  and 
talked  in  whispers  at  the  other  end  of  the  big  room,  and 
Ghisleri  looked  ghastly  white,  and  Campodonico  was  so 
angry  that  his  eyes  were  like  coals.  A  few  minutes 
later,  they  both  went  away  in  a  great  hurry  —  Campo 
donico  left  his  wife  there.  It  certainly  looks  as  though 
there  were  to  be  a  duel  to-morrow.  You  know  how  they 
hate  each  other,  and  how  they  fought  long  ago  about  that 
wonderful  Princess  Corleone  who  died.  I  can  remember 
seeing  her  before  I  was  married." 

The  Contessa  listened  to  the  end.  She  could  not  have 
grown  paler  than  she  was  on  that  evening,  but  while 
Donna  Maria  was  speaking  the  shadows  deepened  almost 
to  black  under  her  eyes,  and  the  veins  in  her  throat 
swelled  and  throbbed  so  that  they  hurt  her.  She  suc 
ceeded  in  controlling  all  other  outward  signs  of  emotion, 
however,  and  when  she  spoke  her  voice  was  calm  and  quiet. 

"I  hardly  believe  that  those  two  will  fight,"  she  said. 
"But,  of  course,  they  may.  We  shall  probably  know 
to-morrow." 

Making  a  little  sign  to  her  partner,  she  began  to  dance 
with  him  again,  and  continued  to  waltz  until  the  music 
ceased  a  few  minutes  later.  She  stopped  near  the  door 
where  Ghisleri  was  standing,  and  looked  at  him.  He 
immediately  came  to  her  side,  and  she  left  the  man  she 
had  been  dancing  with  and  moved  away  with  Pietro 


188  PIETKO   GHISLERI. 

towards  a  distant  room,  not  speaking  on  the  way.     They 
sat  down  together  in  a  quiet  corner,  and  he  saw  that  she 
was  very  much  moved  and  probably  very  angry  with  him. 
"Will  you  please  to  tell  me  the  truth?  "  she  said,  in  a 
hard  voice.     "  I  have  something  to  ask  you." 
"Yes.     I  always  do,"  he  answered. 
"  Is  it  true  that  there  is  a  quarrel  between  you  and  Don 
Gianforte  Campodonico?" 

"Yes  — it  is  true,"  replied  Ghisleri,  after  hesitating  a 
few  seconds. 

"  And  that  you  had  a  discussion  with  him  about  Lady 
Herbert  at  the  San  Giacinto's  dinner  table?  " 

"  Yes,"  admitted  Ghisleri,  who  saw  that  his  worst  fears 
were  about  to  be  realised. 

"Are  you  going  to  fight?"  asked  Maddalena,  in  a 
metallic  tone. 

"  Yes.     We  are  going  to  fight." 

"  So  you  have  already  forgotten  what  you  promised  me 
this  afternoon.  You  said  you  would  do  all  a  man  could 
do  to  avoid  a  quarrel  —  for  my  sake.  Six  hours  had  not 
passed  before  you  had  broken  your  word.  That  is  the 
sort  of  faith  you  keep  with  me." 

Pietro  Ghisleri  began  to  think  that  his  misfortunes 
would  never  end.  For  some  time  he  sat  in  silence,  star 
ing  before  him.  Should  he  tell  her  the  whole  story? 
Should  he  go  over  the  abominable  scene  with  Campo 
donico,  and  tell  her  all  the  atrocious  insults  he  had 
patiently  borne  for  Bianca  Corleone's  sake,  until  Madda- 
lena's  own  name  had  seemed  to  set  him  free  from  his 
obligation  to  the  dead  woman  ?  He  reflected  that  it  would 
sound  extremely  theatrical  and  perhaps  improbable  in 
her  ears,  for  she  distrusted  him  enough  already.  Besides, 
if  she  believed  him,  to  tell  her  would  only  be  to  afford 
his  own  vanity  a  base  satisfaction.  This  last  view  was 
perhaps  a  false  one,  but  with  his  character  it  was  not 
unnatural. 

"  I  have  -kept  my  word,"  he  said  at  last,  "  for  I  have 
borne  all  that  a  man  can  bear  to  avoid  this  quarrel." 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  189 

"  I  am  sorry  you  should  be  able  to  bear  so  little  for 
me,"  answered  Maddalena,  her  voice  as  hard  as  ever. 

"I  have  done  my  best.  I  am  only  a  man  after  all. 
If  you  had  heard  what  passed,  you  would  probably  now 
say  that  I  am  right." 

"You  always  take  shelter  behind  assertions  of  that 
kind.  I  know  it  is  of  no  use  to  ask  you  to  tell  me  the 
whole  story,  for  if  you  were  willing  to  tell  it,  you  would 
have  told  it  to  me  already.  No  one  can  conceal  fact  as 
you  can  and  yet  never  be  caught  in  a  downright  false 
hood.  Half  an  hour  ago,  when  we  were  sitting  in  that 
other  room,  you  knew  jnst  as  well  as  you  do  now  that 
you  were  to  fight  to-morrow,  and  you  had  not  the  slight 
est  intention  of  telling  me." 

"  Not  the  slightest.  Men  do  not  talk  about  such  things. 
It  is  not  in  good  taste,  and  not  particularly  honourable, 
in  my  opinion." 

"Good  taste  and  honour!"  exclaimed  the  Contessa, 
scornfully.  "You  talk  as  though  we  were  strangers! 
Indeed,  I  think  we  are  coming  to  that,  as  fast  as  we  can." 

"I  trust  not." 

"The  phrase,  again!  What  should  you  say,  after  all? 
You  must  say  something  when  I  put  the  matter  plainly. 
It  would  not  be  in  good  taste,  if  you  did  not  contradict 
me  when  I  tell  you  that  you  do  not  love  me0  All  things 
considered,  perhaps  you  do  not  even  think  it  honourable. 
You  are  very  considerate,  and  I  am  immensely  grateful. 
Perhaps  you  are  thinking,  too,  that  it  would  be  more 
decent,  and  in  better  taste  on  my  part,  to  let  you  go,  now 
that  I  have  discovered  the  truth.  I  am  almost  inclined 
to  think  so.  I  have  seen  it  long,  and  I  have  been  foolish 
to  doubt  my  senses." 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  do  not  be  so  bitter  and  unjust," 
said  Grhisleri  earnestly. 

"I  am  neither.  Do  you  know  why  I  have  clung  to 
you?  Shall  I  tell  you?  It  may  hurt  you,  and  I  am  bad 
enough  to  wish  to  hurt  you  to-night  —  to  wish  that  you 
might  suffer  something  of  what  I  feel." 


190  PIETKO   GHISLEEI. 

"  I  am  ready, "  answered  Pietro. 

"  Do  you  know  why  I  have  clung  to  you,  I  ask?  I  will 
tell  you  the  truth.  It  was  my  last  chance  of  respecting 
myself,  my  last  hold  on  womanliness,  on  everything  that 
a  woman  cares  to  be.  And  you  have  succeeded  in  taking 
that  from  me.  You  found  me  a  good  wife.  You  know 
what  I  am  now  —  what  you  have  made  me.  Kemember 
that  to-morrow  morning,  when  you  are  risking  your  life 
for  Lady  Herbert  Arden.  Do  you  understand  me?  Have 
I  hurt  you?" 

"Yes."  Ghisleri  bowed  his  head,  and  passed  his  hand 
over  his  forehead. 

What  she  said  was  terribly,  irrefutably  true.  The 
vision  of  true  love,  revived  within  the  last  few  days,  and 
delusive  still  that  very  afternoon,  had  vanished,  and  only 
the  other,  the  vision  of  sin,  remained,  clear,  sharp,  and 
cruelly  well-defined.  He  made  no  attempt  to  deny  what 
she  said,  even  in  his  own  heart,  for  it  would  not  be  denied. 

"  I  cannot  even  ask  you  to  forgive  me  that, "  he  said  at 
last  in  a  low  tone. 

"  No.  You  cannot  even  ask  that,  for  you  knew  what 
you  were  doing  —  I  scarcely  did.  Not  that  I  excuse  my 
self.  I  was  willing  to  risk  everything,  and  I  did,  blindly, 
for  the  sake  of  a  real  love.  You  see  what  I  have  got. 
You  cannot  love  me,  but  you  shall  not  forget  me.  Heaven 
is  too  just.  And  so,  good-bye !  " 

"I  hope  it  may  be  good-bye,  indeed,"  said  Ghisleri. 

"  Not  that  —  no,  not  that !  "  exclaimed  Maddalena.  "  I 
wish  you  no  evil  —  no  harm.  I  had  a  right  to  say  what 
I  have  said.  I  shall  never  say  it  again  —  for  there  will 
be  no  need.  Take  me  back,  please." 

She  rose  to  go,  and  her  finely  chiselled  face  was  as  hard 
as  steel.  In  silence  they  went  back  to  the  supper-room, 
and  a  few  moments  later  Ghisleri  left  her  with  Francesco 
Savelli  and  went  home.  On  his  table  he  found  a  note 
from  his  seconds,  as  had  been  arranged,  naming  the  place 
and  hour  agreed  upon  for  the  duel,  and  stating  that  they 
would  call  for  him  in  good  time.  He  tossed  it  into  the 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  191 

fire  which  still  smouldered  on  the  hearth,  as  he  did  with 
everything  in  the  nature  of  notes  and  letters  which  came 
to  him.  He  never  kept  a  scrap  of  writing  of  any  sort, 
except  such  as  chanced  to  be  connected  with  business 
matters  and  the  administration  of  his  small  estate.  He 
hesitated  long  as  to  whether  he  should  write  to  Maddalena 
or  not,  sitting  for  nearly  half  an  hour  at  his  writing- 
table  with  a  pen  in  his  fingers  and  a  sheet  of  paper  before 
him. 

After  all,  what  could  he  write?  A  justification  of 
himself  in  the  question  of  fighting  with  Campodonico? 
What  difference  could  it  make  now?  All  had  been  said, 
and  the  end  had  come,  as  he  had  of  late  known  that  it 
must,  though  it  had  been  abrupt  and  unexpected  at  the 
last  minute.  It  was  all  the  same  now  whether  he  should 
afterwards  be  said  to  have  fought  for  Laura  or  for  Madda 
lena.  Besides,  in  real  truth,  if  it  were  known,  he  was 
fighting  for  neither.  Gianforte's  old  hatred  had  sud 
denly  flamed  up  again,  and  if  he  had  spoken  Maddalena' s 
name  it  was  only  because  he  found  that  no  other  means 
could  prevail  upon  the  man  he  hated  to  break  his  solemn 
vow,  and  because  he  knew  that  no  man  would  bear  tamely 
an  insult  of  that  kind  cast  upon  a  woman  he  was  bound 
in  honour  to  defend.  But  all  that  had  been  only  the 
result  of  circumstances.  The  quarrel  was  really  the  old 
one  in  which  they  had  fought  so  desperately,  long  ago. 
The  dead  Bianca's  memory  still  lived,  and  had  power  to 
bring  two  brave  men  face  to  face  in  a  death  struggle. 

Ghisleri  rose  from  the  table  and  stood  before  the  photo 
graph  of  the  picture  which  had  brought  matters  to  the 
present  pass.  For  the  thousandth  time  he  gazed  at  the 
wonderful  likeness  of  her  he  had  loved,  perfect  in  all 
points,  as  chance  had  made  it  under  the  hand  of  a  man 
who  had  never  seen  her. 

"I  made  a  promise  to  you  once,"  he  said,  in  a  low 
voice,  "  and  I  have  kept  it  as  well  as  I  could.  I  will 
make  another,  for  your  dear  sake  and  memory.  I  will 
not  again  bring  unhappiness  upon  any  woman." 


192  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

Sentimental  and  theatrical,  the  world  would  have  said. 
But  the  man  who  could  bear  to  be  unjustly  called  liar 
and  coward  rather  than  break  his  oath  was  able  to  keep 
such  a  promise  if  he  chose.  And  he  did. 

So  far  as  he  was  humanly  able,  too,  in  the  world  to 
which  he  belonged,  he  kept  the  first  one  a]so;  for,  when 
they  bent  over  him  as  he  lay  upon  the  wet  grass  a  few 
hours  later,  the  pistol  he  held  was  loaded  still.  The 
world  said  that  he  had  been  shot  before  he  had  time  to 
fire,  because  he  was  trying  to  aim  too  carefully.  But 
Gianforte  Campodonico  bared  his  head  and  bent  it  respect 
fully  as  they  carried  Pietro  Ghisleri  away. 

"There  goes  the  bravest  man  I  ever  knew,"  he  said  to 
his  second. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE  report  that  Ghisleri  had  been  killed  by  his  old 
adversary  in  a  quarrel  about  Laura  Arden  spread  like 
wildfire  through  society.  It  was  not  until  San  Giacinto 
formally  proclaimed  that  he  had  been  to  Ghisleri's  lodg 
ing,  and  that,  although  shot  through  the  right  lung,  he 
was  alive  and  might  recover,  that  the  world  knew  the 
truth. 

It  was  of  course  perfectly  evident  that  Laura  was  the 
cause  of  the  difference.  Even  San  Giacinto  had  no  other 
explanation  to  suggest,  when  he  was  appealed  to,  and 
could  only  say  that  it  seemed  incredible  that  two  men 
should  fight  with  pistols  at  a  dangerously  short  distance, 
because  the  one  said  that  Lady  Herbert  was  a  jettatrice, 
and  the  other  denied  it.  If  Campodonico  had  been  less 
universally  liked  than  he  was,  he  would  have  become 
very  unpopular  in  consequence  of  the  duel ;  for,  although 
few  persons  were  intimate  with  Ghisleri,  he  also  was  a 
favourite  with  the  world. 

The  Gerano  faction  was  very  angry  with  both  men, 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  193 

though  Adele  was  secretly  delighted.  It  was  a  scandal 
ous  thing,  they  said,  that  a  duel  should  be  fought  about 
a  young  widow,  whose  husband  had-not  been  buried  much 
more  than  two  months.  Both  should  have  known  better. 
And  then,  Campodonico  was  a  young  married  man,  which 
made  matters  far  worse.  Duelling  was  an  abominable 
sin,  of  course;  but  G-hisleri,  at  least,  was  alone  in  the 
world  and  could  risk  his  soul  and  body  without  the  dan 
ger  of  bringing  unhappiness  on  others.  Gianforte's  case 
was  different  and  far  less  pardonable. 

But  Casa  Gerano  and  Casa  Savelli  belonged  rather  to 
the  old-fashioned  part  of  society,  though  Adele  and  her 
husband  were  undeniably  in  the  gay  set,  and  there  were 
many  who  judged  the  two  men  more  leniently.  The 
world  had  certainly  been  saying  for  some  time  that  Ghis- 
leri  went  very  often  to  see  Lady  Herbert,  and  was  neglect 
ing  Maddalena  dell'  Armi.  The  cruel  words  the  Contessa 
had  overheard  at  the  Embassy  were  but  part  of  the  cur 
rent  gossip,  for  otherwise  mere  strangers,  like  those  who 
had  spoken,  could  not  have  already  learned  to  repeat 
them.  If,  then,  Ghisleri  was  in  love  with  Laura  Arden, 
it  was  natural  enough  that  he  should  resent  the  story 
about  the  evil  eye.  Meanwhile,  poor  man,  no  one  could 
tell  whether  he  could  ever  recover  from  his  dangerous 
wound. 

The  Contessa  dell'  Armi  was  one  of  the  very  first  to 
know  the  truth.  She  had  spent  a  miserable  and  sleep 
less  night,  and  it  was  still  very  early  in  the  morning 
when  she  sent  to  Ghisleri' s  lodgings  for  news.  She  was 
very  anxious,  for  she  knew  more  than  most  people  about 
the  old  story,  and  she  guessed  that  Campodonico  would 
do  his  best  to  hurt  Pietro.  But  she  had  no  idea  that 
pistols  were  to  be  the  weapons,  and  Ghisleri's  reputa 
tion  as  a  swordsman  was  very  good.  Short  of  an  acci 
dent,  she  thought,  nothing  would  be  really  dangerous  to 
him.  But  then,  accidents  sometimes  happened. 

The  answer  came  back,  short  and  decisive.  He  was 
shot  through  the  very  middle  of  the  right  lung,  he  had 


194  PIETKO   GHISLEKI. 

not  fired  upon  his  adversary,  and  he  lay  in  great  danger, 
between  life  and  death,  in  the  care  of  a  surgeon  and  a 
Sister  of  Charity,  neither  of  whom  left  his  side  for  a 
moment. 

Maddalena  did  not  hesitate.  She  dressed  herself  in  an 
old  black  frock  she  found  among  her  things,  put  on  a 
thick  veil,  went  out  alone,  and  drove  to  Pietro's  lodgings. 
Such  rash  things  may  be  done  with  impunity  in  Paris  or 
London,  but  they  rarely  remain  long  concealed  in  a  small 
city  like  Eome.  He  was  still  unconscious  from  weakness 
and  loss  of  blood.  His  eyes  were  half  closed  and  his  face 
was  transparently  white.  Maddalena  stood  still  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed  and  looked  at  him,  while  the  doctor  and 
the  nurse  gazed  at  her  in  surprise.  During  what  seemed 
an  endless  time  to  them  she  did  not  move.  Then  she 
beckoned  to  the  surgeon,  and  led  him  away  to  the  win 
dow. 

"Will  he  live?"  she  asked,  hardly  able  to  pronounce 
the  words. 

"  He  may.  There  is  some  hope,  for  he  is  very  strong. 
I  cannot  say  more  than  that  for  the  present." 

For  a  few  moments  Maddalena  was  silent.  She  had 
never  seen  the  doctor,  and  he  evidently  did  not  know  her. 

"  My  place  should  be  here,"  she  said  at  last.  "Would 
an  emotion  be  bad  for  him  —  if  he  were  angry,  perhaps?  " 

"Probably  fatal,"  answered  the  surgeon  with  decision. 
"  If  he  is  likely  to  experience  any  emotion  on  seeing  you, 
I  beg  you  not  to  stay  long.  He  may  soon  be  fully  con 
scious." 

"He  cannot  know  me  now?"  she  asked  anxiously. 

"No.     Not  yet." 

"  Not  if  I  went  quite  near  to  him  —  if  I  touched  him?  " 

The  doctor  glanced  back  at  the  white  face  on  the  pil 
low. 

"  No, "  he  answered.     "  But  be  quick. " 

Maddalena  went  swiftly  to  the  bedside,  and,  bending 
down,  kissed  Ghisleri's  forehead,  gazed  at  him  for  a 
moment,  and  then  turned  away.  She  slipped  a  little  gold 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  195 

bracelet  formed  of  simple  links  without  ornament  or  dis 
tinctive  mark  from  her  wrist,  and  put  it  into  the  Sister's 
hand. 

"  If  you  think  he  is  dying,  give  him  this,  and  say  I 
came  and  kissed  him.  If  he  is  in  no  danger,  sell  it,  and 
give  the  money  to  some  poor  person.  Can  I  trust  you, 
my  sister?  " 

"Yes,  madame,"  answered  the  French  nun  quietly  as 
she  dropped  the  trinket  into  her  capacious  pocket. 

With  one  glance  more  at  Ghisleri' s  face,  the  Contessa 
left  the  room.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  she  was  at  home 
again.  The  servants  supposed  that  she  had  gone  to  an 
early  mass,  as  she  sometimes  did,  possibly  to  pray  for  the 
soul  of  the  Signor  Ghisleri.  The  man  who  had  gone  for 
news  of  him  had  not  failed  to  inform  the  whole  household 
of  Pietro's  dangerous  state,  and  as  Pietro  was  a  constant 
visitor,  and  was  generous  with  his  five-franc  notes,  con 
siderable  anxiety  was  felt  in  the  lower  regions  for  his 
welfare,  and  numerous  prayers  were  offered  for  his  re 
covery. 

Maddalena  sent  to  make  inquiries  several  times  in  the 
course  of  the  day,  and  towards  evening  was  informed  that 
there  was  more  hope,  but  that  if  he  got  well  at  all  it 
would  be  by  a  long  convalescence.  She  herself  saw  no 
one,  and  no  one  ever  knew  what  she  suffered  in  those 
endless  hours  of  solitude. 

Laura  Arden  heard  of  the  duel  through  her  mother, 
who  was  very  angry  about  it,  as  has  been  seen.  Laura 
herself  was  greatly  shocked,  for  at  first  almost  every  one 
thought  that  Ghisleri  must  die  of  his  wound.  Having 
been  brought  up  in  Rome,  in  the  midst  of  Eoman  ideas, 
she  had  not  the  English  aversion  to  duelling,  nor,  being 
an  Anglican,  had  she  a  Catholic's  horror  of  sudden  death. 
She  did  not  even  yet  really  like  Ghisleri.  But  she  was 
horror-struck,  though  she  could  hardly  have  told  why,  at 
the  thought  that  the  strong  man  who  had  been  with  her 
when  her  husband  died,  and  whom  she  had  talked  with 
so  often  since,  should  be  taken  away  without  warning,  in 


196  PIETRO   GHISLERT. 

the  midst  of  his  youth  and  strength,  for  a  word  said  in 
her  defence.  Of  course  the  Princess  told  her  all  the 
details  of  the  story  as  she  had  heard  them,  laying  par 
ticular  stress  upon  the  fact  that  the  duel  had  been  fought 
for  Laura.  The  seconds  in  the  affair  had  gravely  alleged 
a  dispute  about  the  painter  Zichy  as  the  true  cause  of  the 
quarrel,  but  the  world  had  found  time  to  make  up  its 
mind  on  the  previous  evening,  and  was  not  to  be  deceived 
by  such  absurd  tales. 

"It  is  not  my  fault,  mother,  if  they  fought  about  me," 
said  Laura.  "  But  I  am  dreadfully  distressed.  I  wish 
I  could  do  anything." 

"The  best  thing  is  to  do  nothing,"  answered  the  Prin 
cess,  "for  nothing  can  do  any  good.  The  harm  is  done, 
whether  it  has  been  in  any  way  your  fault  or  not.  To 
think  it  should  all  have  begun  in  that  insane  superstition 
about  the  evil  eye !  " 

"  I  never  even  knew  that  I  was  suspected  of  being  a 
jettatrice.  People  must  be  mad  to  believe  in  such  things. 
You  are  right,  of  course.  What  could  any  of  us  do  except 
make  inquiries  ?  Poor  man !  I  hope  he  will  get  over  it. " 

"God  grant  he  may  live  to  be  a  better  man,"  said  the 
Princess,  devoutly.  She  had  never  had  a  very  high  opin 
ion  of  Ghisleri's  moral  worth,  and  late  events  had  con 
firmed  her  in  the  estimate  she  had  made.  "  One  thing  I 
must  say,  my  dear,"  she  continued.  "If  he  recovers,  as 
I  pray  he  may,  you  must  see  less  of  him  than  hitherto. 
You  cannot  let  people  talk  about  you  as  they  will  talk, 
especially  after  this  dreadful  affair." 

"I  will  be  very  careful,"  Laura  answered.  "Not  that 
there  is  any  danger.  The  poor  man  will  be  ill  for  weeks, 
at  the  best,  and  the  summer  will  be  almost  here  before 
he  is  out  of  the  house.  Then  I  shall  be  going  away,  for 
I  do  not  mean  to  keep  Herbert  here  during  the  heat." 

The  Princess  was  quite  used  to  hearing  Laura  speak 
of  the  little  child  in  that  way,  and  she  had  never  once 
referred  to  her  husband  by  name  since  his  death.  She 
meant  that  the  one  Herbert  should  take  the  place  of  the 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  197 

other,  once  and  for  always,  to  be  cared  for  and  loved,  and 
thought  of  at  every  hour  of  the  day.  She  had  silently 
planned  out  her  life  during  the  weeks  of  her  recovery, 
and  she  believed  that  nothing  could  prevent  her  from 
living  it  as  she  intended.  Everything  should  be  for  little 
Herbert,  from  first  to  last.  She  looked  at  the  baby  face, 
in  which  she  saw  so  plainly  the  father's  likeness  where 
others  could  see  only  a  pair  of  big  brown  eyes,  plump 
cheeks,  and  a  mouth  like  a  flower,  and  she  promised  her 
self  that  all  the  happiness  she  would  have  made  for  the 
one  who  had  been  taken  should  be  the  lot  of  the  one 
given  to  her  almost  on  the  same  day.  Her  future  seemed 
anything  but  dark  to  her,  though  its  greater  light  had 
gone  out.  The  anguish,  the  agonising  anxiety,  the  first 
moment's  joy,  and  at  last  the  full  pride  of  motherhood, 
had  come  between  her  and  the  past,  deadening  the  terri 
ble  shock  at  first,  and  making  the  memory  of  it  less  keen 
and  poignant  afterwards,  while  not  in  any  way  dimming 
the  bright  recollection  of  the  love  that  had  united  her  to 
her  husband.  She  could  take  pleasure  now  in  looking 
forward  to  her  boy's  coming  years,  to  the  time  when  he 
should  be  at  first  a  companion,  then  a  friend,  and  then  a 
protector  of  whom  she  would  be  proud  when  he  stood 
among  other  men.  She  could  think  of  his  schooldays, 
and  she  could  already  feel  the  pain  of  parting  from  him 
and  the  joy  of  meeting  him  again,  taller  and  stronger  and 
braver  at  every  return.  And  far  away  in  the  hazy  dis 
tance  before  her  she  could  see  a  shadowy  but  lovely  fig 
ure,  yet  unknown  to-day  —  Herbert's  wife  that  was  to  be, 
a  perfect  woman,  and  worthy  of  him  in  all  ways.  It 
might  be  also  that  somewhere  there  were  great  deeds  for 
Herbert  to  do,  fame  for  him  to  achieve,  glory  for  him  to 
win.  All  this  was  possible,  but  she  thought  little  of  it. 
Her  ambition  was  to  know  him  some  day  to  be  all  that 
his  father  had  been  in  heart,  and  to  see  him  all  that  his 
father  should  have  been  in  outward  form  and  stature. 
More  than  that  she  neither  hoped  nor  asked  for,  and  per 
haps  it  was  enough.  And  so  she  dreamed  on,  while  no 


198  PIETKO    GHISLERI. 

one  thought  she  was  dreaming  at  all,  for  she  was  always 
active  and  busy  with  something  that  concerned  the  child, 
and  her  attention  never  wandered  when  it  was  needed. 

Her  mother  watched  her  and  was  glad  of  it  all.  To 
her,  it  seemed  very  merciful  that  Arden  should  have  died 
when  he  did,  fond  as  she  herself  had  been  of  him.  She 
had  not  believed  that  Laura  could  be  permanently  happy 
with  such  a  sufferer,  and  she  had  never  desired  the  mar 
riage,  though  she  had  done  nothing  to  oppose  it  when  she 
saw  how  deeply  her  daughter  loved  the  man  she  had 
chosen.  She  was  very  much  relieved  when  she  saw  how 
Laura  behaved  in  her  sorrow,  and  realised  that  there  was 
no  morbid  tendency  in  her  to  dwell  over-long  on  her 
grief.  One  thing,  which  has  already  been  mentioned, 
alone  showed  that  Laura  felt  very  deeply,  —  she  never 
spoke  of  Arden,  even  to  her  mother.  On  this  point  there 
seemed  to  be  a  tacit  understanding  between  her  and  Don 
ald.  The  faithful  old  servant  seemed  to  know  instinc 
tively  what  she  wished  done.  When  all  was  over,  and 
while  Laura  was  still  far  too  ill  to  be  consulted,  he  had 
taken  all  Arden' s  clothes  and  other  little  effects,  even  to 
his  brushes  and  other  dressing  things,  and  had  packed 
everything  in  his  dead  master's  own  boxes  as  though  for 
a  long  journey.  The  boxes  themselves  he  locked  up  in 
a  small  spare  room,  and  laid  the  key  in  the  drawer  of 
Laura's  writing-table  with  a  label  on  which  were  written 
the  words,  "His  lordship's  effects."  Laura  found  it  the 
first  time  she  came  to  the  drawing-room,  and  was  grateful 
to  the  old  Scotchman  for  what  he  had  done.  But  she 
could  not  bring  herself  to  speak  of  it,  even  to  Donald, 
though  he  knew  that  she  was  pleased  by  the  look  she  gave 
him. 

Of  course,  her  manner  was  greatly  changed  from  what 
it  had  been.  -She  never  laughed  now,  and  rarely  ever 
smiled,  except  when  she  held  the  child  in  her  arms. 
But  there  was  nothing  morbid  nor  brooding  in  her  gravity. 
She  had  accepted  her  lot  and  was  determined  to  make  the 
best  of  it  according  to  her  light.  In  time  she  would  grow 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  199 

more  cheerful,  and  by  and  by  she  would  be  her  old  self 
again  — more   womanly,    perhaps,    and   certainly    more 
mature,  but  not  materially  altered  in  character  or  dispo 
sition.     The  short  months  which  had  sufficed  for  what 
had  hitherto  been  the  chief  acts  of  her  life  had  not  been 
filled  with  violent  or  conflicting  emotions,  and  it  is  emo 
tion  more  than  anything  else  which  changes  the  natures 
of  men  and  women  for  better  or  for  worse.     The  love  that 
had  been  born  of  mingled  pity  and  sympathy  of  thought 
had  risen  quickly  in  the  peaceful,  remote  places  of  her 
heart,  and  had  flowed  smoothly  through  the  sweet  garden 
of  her  maidenly  soul,  unruffled  and  undeviating,  until  it 
had  suddenly  disappeared  into  the  abyss  of  eternity.     It 
had  left  no  wreck  and  no  ruin  behind,  no  devastation  and 
no  poisonous,  stagnant  pools,  as  some  loves  do.     The  soil 
over  which  it  had  passed  had  been  refreshed  and  made 
fertile  by  it,  and  would  bear  flowers  and  fruit  hereafter 
as  fragrant  and  as  sweet  as  it  could  ever  have  borne ;  and 
at  the  last,  in  that  one  great  moment  of  pain  when  she 
had  stood  at  the  brink  and  seen  all  she  loved  plunge  out 
of  sight  for  ever  in  the  darkness,  she  had  heard  in  her 
ear  the  tender  cry  of  a  new  young  life  calling  to  her  to 
turn  back  and  tend  it,  and  love  it,  and  show  it  the  paths 
that  lead  to  such  happiness  as  the  world  holds  for  the 
pure  in  heart. 

She  was  calm,  therefore,  and  not,  in  the  ordinary  sense, 
broken  by  her  sorrow,  —  a  fact  which  the  world,  in  its 
omniscience,  very  soon  discovered.  It  did  not  fail  to  say 
that  she  was  well  rid  of  her  husband,  and  that  she  knew 
it,  and  was  glad  to  be  free,  though  she  managed  with  con 
siderable  effort  to  keep  up  a  sufficient  outward  semblance 
of  mourning  to  satisfy  the  customs  and  fashions  of  polite 
society  —  just  that  much,  and  not  a  jot  more. 

But  Adele  Savelli  said  repeatedly  that  all  this  was  not 
true,  and  that  only  a  positively  angelic  nature  like  Laura's 
could  bear  such  an  awful  bereavement  so  calmly.  It  was 
a  strange  thing,  Adele  added,  that  very  good  people 
should  always  seem  so  much  better  able  to  resign  them- 


200  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

selves  to  the  decrees  of  Providence  than  their  less  perfect 
neighbours.  Of  course  it  could  not  be  that  they  were 
colder  and  felt  less  than  others,  and  consequently  could 
not  suffer  so  much.  Besides,  Laura  must  have  loved 
Arden  sincerely  to  marry  him  at  all,  since  it  appeared  to 
be  certain  that  the  rich  uncle  who  was  to  have  left  him 
so  much  money  only  existed  in  the  imagination  of  the 
gossips,  and  had  evidently  been  invented  by  them  merely 
m  order  to  make  out  that  Laura  had  a  secret  reason  for 
marrying  that  uncle's  favourite  nephew.  But  then,  peo 
ple  would  talk,  of  course,  and  all  that  the  relations  of  the 
family  could  do  was  to  deny  such  calumnious  reports 
consistently  and  at  every  turn. 

Adele  was  looking  very  ill  when  the  season  came  to  an 
end.  She  had  grown  thin,  and  her  eyes  had  a  restless, 
hunted  look  in  them  which  had  never  been  there  before. 
Her  husband  noticed  that  she  was  very  much  overcome 
when  she  heard  the  first  report  to  the  effect  that  Ghisleri 
was  killed.  She  seemed  particularly  horrified  at  the 
statement  that  the  original  cause  of  the  duel  had  been  the 
reputation  for  possessing  the  evil  eye  which  Laura  Arden 
had  so  suddenly  acquired,  and  which,  as  she  herself  had 
been  the  very  first  to  say,  was  so  utterly  unfounded.  It 
was  evidently  a  very  great  relief  to  her  to  hear,  later  in 
the  day,  that  Pietro  was  not  yet  dead,  and  might  even 
have  a  chance  of  recovery. 

No  one  could  tell  what  Gianforte  Campodonico  thought 
of  the  matter.  He  shut  himself  up  obstinately  and 
awaited  events.  It  is  not  probable  that  he  felt  any 
remorse  for  what  he  had  done,  or  that  he  would  have 
felt  any  if  he  had  left  Ghisleri  dead  on  the  field,  instead 
of  with  a  bare  chance  of  life.  He  had  taken  the  ven 
geance  he  had  longed  for  and  he  was  glad  of  it,  but  the 
impression  he  had  of  the  man  was  not  the  same  which  he 
had  been  accustomed  to  for  so  many  years.  He,  who 
generally  reflected  little,  asked  himself  whether  he  could 
have  found  the  courage  to  bear  what  Ghisleri  had  borne 
for  the  sake  of  the  promise  they  had  made  together,  and 


PIET.RO    GHISLERI.  201 

which  he  had  been  the  first  to  break.  He  was  a  brave 
man,  too,  in  his  way,  and  it  would  not  have  been  safe  to 
predict  that  he  would  fail  at  any  given  point  if  put  to 
the  test.  But  he  was  conscious  that,  in  the  present  case, 
Ghisleri  had  played  the  nobler  part,  and  he  was  manly 
enough  to  acknowledge  the  fact  to  himself,  and  to  respect 
his  adversary  as  he  had  not  done  before.  If  he  stayed 
at  home  and  refused  to  be  seen  in  the  world  or  even  at 
his  club  immediately  after  the  duel,  it  was  because  he 
would  not  be  thought  willing  to  glory  in  his  victory. 

But,  before  many  days  were  gone  by,  it  became  appar 
ent,  so  far  as  the  world  could  judge,  that  Pietro  Ghisleri 
would  not  die  of  the  dangerous  wound  he  had  received. 
It  would  have  killed  most  men,  the  surgeon  said,  but 
Ghisleri  was  not  like  other  people.  He,  the  doctor,  had 
never  seen  a  stronger  constitution,  nor  one  so  perfectly 
untainted  by  any  hereditary  evil  or  weakness.  Such 
blood  was  rare  now,  especially  in  the  old  families,  and 
such  strength  would  have  been  rare  in  any  age.  He  had 
no  longer  any  hesitation  in  saying  that  the  patient  had  a 
very  fair  prospect  of  recovery,  and  might  possibly  be  as 
healthy  as  ever  before  the  end  of  the  summer. 

The  Sister  of  Charity  went  about  with  Maddalena's 
bracelet  in  her  pocket,  feeling  very  uncomfortable  about 
it,  since  she  had  been  quite  sure  from  the  first  that  there 
was  something  very  sinful  in  the  whole  affair.  But  she 
was  quite  ready  to  fulfil  her  promise  if  Ghisleri  showed 
signs  of  departing  this  life,  which  he  did  not,  however, 
either  when  he  first  regained  consciousness  or  later.  So 
she,  on  her  part,  said  nothing,  and  waited  for  the  day 
when  she  might  deliver  up  the  trinket  to  the  Mother 
Superior,  to  be  sold  for  the  poor,  as  Maddalena  had 
directed.  In  that,  at  least,  there  could  be  no  harm,  and 
she  was  very  thankful  that  she  was  not  called  upon  to 
deliver  the  message  to  Ghisleri  himself,  for  that,  she  felt 
sure,  would  have  been  sinful,  or  something  very  like  it. 

The  surgeon  was  surprised  by  something  else  in  the 
case.  As  a  general  rule,  when  a  man  fights  a  desperate 


202  PIETEO   GHISLERI. 

duel  in  the  very  middle  of  the  season,  and  especially  such 
a  man  as  he  knew  Ghisleri  to  be,  and  is  severely  hurt, 
he  finds  himself  cut  off  from  society  in  the  midst  of  some 
chain  of  events  in  which  the  whole  present  interest  of  his 
life  is  engaged.  He  is  consequently  disturbed  in  mind, 
impatient  of  confinement,  and  feverishly  anxious  to  get 
back  to  the  world,  —  a  state  of  temper  by  no  means  condu 
cive  to  convalescence.  Ghisleri,  on  the  contrary,  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  to  care  for  anything.  No  preoccupa 
tion  appeared  to  possess  him;  no  desire  to  be  back  again 
in  the  throng  made  him  restless.  He  was  perfectly  calm 
and  peaceful,  always  patient,  and  always  resigned  to 
whatever  treatment  seemed  necessary.  The  Sister  won 
dered  much  that  a  man  of  such  marvellous  gentleness  and 
resignation  could  have  found  it  in  him  to  commit  mortal 
sin  in  fighting  a  duel,  and,  perhaps,  far  down  in  her 
woman's  heart,  she  did  not  wonder  at  all  at  what  Madda- 
lena  had  done  on  that  first  morning.  The  surgeon  said 
that  Ghisleri's  sweet  temper  had  much  to  do  with  his 
rapid  recovery. 

It  need  not  be  supposed  from  this  that  his  character 
had  undergone  any  radical  change,  nor  that  he  was  turn 
ing,  all  at  once,  into  the  saint  he  was  never  intended  to 
be.  It  was  very  simple.  The  events  of  the  night  pre 
ceding  the  duel  had  brought  his  life  to  a  crisis  which, 
once  past,  had  left  little  behind  it  to  disturb  him.  First 
in  his  mind  was  the  consciousness  that  his  love  for 
Maddalena  dell'  Armi  was  gone  for  ever,  and  that  she 
herself  expected  no  return  of  it.  That  alone  was  enough 
to  change  his  whole  existence  in  the  present,  and  in  the 
immediate  future.  Then,  too,  he  felt  that  he  had  at  least 
settled  old  scores  with  Campodonico  and  had  in  a  meas 
ure  expiated  one,  at  least,  of  his  past  misdeeds,  almost  at 
the  cost  of  his  life.  Morally  speaking,  too,  he  had  kept 
his  oath  to  Bianca  Corleone,  for  under  the  utmost  provo 
cation  he  had  refused  to  fight  in  the  old  quarrel,  and  even 
when  driven  to  bay  and  forced  upon  new  ground  by  Cam 
podonico 's  implacable  hatred,  he  had  stood  up  to  be 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  203 

killed  without  so  much  as  firing  at  Bianca's  brother. 
There  was  a  deep  and  real  satisfaction  in  that,  and  he 
was  perhaps  too  ill  as  yet  to  torture  himself  by  stigma 
tising  it  as  a  bit  of  vanity.  The  world  might  think  what 
it  pleased.  Maddalena  might  misjudge  his  motives,  and 
Gianforte  might  triumph  in  his  victory  —  it  all  made  no 
difference  to  him.  He  was  conscious  that  to  the  best  of 
his  ability  he  had  acted  according  to  the  dictates  of  true 
honour,  as  he  understood  it ;  and  at  night  he  closed  his 
eyes  and  fell  peacefully  asleep,  and  in  the  morning  he 
opened  them  quietly  again  upon  the  little  world  of  his 
invalid's  surroundings. 

He  was  not  happy,  however.  What  he  felt,  and  what 
perhaps  saved  his  life,  was  a  momentary  absence  of 
responsibility,  an  absolute  certainty  that  nothing  more 
could  be  required  of  him,  because,  in  the  events  in  which 
he  had  played  a  part,  that  part  had  been  acted  out  to  the 
very  end.  He  even  went  so  far  as  to  believe  that,  if  he 
had  died,  it  would  not  have  made  any  difference  to  any 
one,  except  that  his  death  might  possibly  have  been  an 
added  satisfaction  to  Campodonico.  He  would  have  left 
no  sorrowing  heart  behind  to  mourn  him,  nor  any  gap  in 
any  circle  which  another  man  could  not  fill  up.  Herbert 
Arden,  the  only  friend  who  would  have  really  regretted 
him,  was  already  dead,  and  there  was  no  one  else  who 
stood  to  him  in  any  relation  of  acquaintance  at  all  so 
close  as  to  be  called  friendship.  All  this  contributed 
materially  to  his  peace  of  mind,  though  in  one  respect 
he  was  mistaken.  There  was  one  person  who  loved  him 
still,  for  himself,  though  she  knew  well  enough  that  his 
love  for  her  was  dead. 

And  it  was  of  her,  though  he  was  mistaken  about  her, 
that  he  thought  the  most  during  the  long  hours  when  he 
lay  there  quietly  watching  the  sunbeams  stealing  across 
the  room  when  it  was  fine,  or  listening  to  the  raindrops 
pattering  against  the  windows  when  the  weather  was 
stormy.  In  her  was  centred  the  great  present  regret  of 
his  life,  and  for  her  sake  he  felt  the  most  sincere  remorse, 


204  PIETKO    GHISLERI. 

He  asked  himself,  as  she  had  asked  him,  what  was  to 
become  of  her,  now  that  he  had  left  her.  The  fact  that 
she  had  been  really  the  one  to  speak  the  word  and  cause 
the  first  break  did  not  change  the  truth  in  the  least.  It 
had  been  his  fault  from  the  first  to  the  last.  He  had  not 
broken  her  heart,  perhaps,  because  hearts  are  not  now-a- 
days  easily  broken,  if,  indeed,  they  ever  really  were ;  but 
he  had  ruined  her  existence  wantonly,  uselessly,  on  the 
plea  of  a  love  neither  pure  nor  lasting,  and  he  fully  real 
ised  what  he  had  done.  What  chance  had  she  ever 
had  against  him  —  she,  young,  inexperienced,  trusting, 
wretchedly  unhappy  with  a  husband  who  had  despised 
and  trodden  out  the  simple,  girlish  love  she  had  offered 
—  what  chance  had  she  against  Pietro  Ghisleri,  the  hard 
ened,  cool-headed  man  of  the  world,  whose  only  weak 
ness  was  that  he  sometimes  believed  himself  sincere,  as 
he  had  with  her?  He  was  not  happy  as  he  thought  of 
it  all.  There  had  been  little  manliness  in  what  he  had 
done,  and  not  much  of  the  honour  which  he  called  his 
last  shred  of  morality.  And  yet,  in  the  world  in  which 
he  had  his  being,  few  men  would  blame  him,  and  none, 
perhaps,  venture  to  condemn  him.  But  that  considera 
tion  did  not  cross  his  mind.  He  was  willing  to  bear  both 
condemnation  and  blame,  and  he  heaped  both  upon  him 
self  in  a  plentiful  measure. 

Nevertheless,  he  was  conscious  of  being  surprised  at 
the  calmness  of  his  own  repentance,  as  he  called  it 
rather  contemptuously,  and  he  wished  himself,  as  usual, 
quite  different  from  what  he  was.  And  yet  he  had  not 
forgotten  the  semi-theatrical  resolution  to  change  his  life, 
which  he  had  made  on  the  night  before  the  duel,  still  less 
had  he  any  intention  of  breaking  it.  He  had  always 
laughed  at  men  and  women  who  made  sudden  and  impor 
tant  resolutions  under  the  influence  of  emotion,  and,  on 
the  whole,  he  had  never  seen  any  reason  for  looking  upon 
such  gratuitous  promises  as  valid,  unless  there  had  been 
witnesses  to  them,  and  human  vanity  afterwards  came 
into  play.  But  now,  in  Jiis  own  case,  he  meant  to  try 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  205 

the  experiment.  It  made  no  difference  whether  he  were 
vain  about  it  or  not,  if  he  succeeded,  nor,  if  he  failed, 
whether  he  scorned  his  own  weakness  a  little  more  than 
before.  No  one  would  ever  know,  and  since  by  Laura 
Arden's  rigid  standard  of  right  and  wrong  the  end  to  be 
gained  belonged  distinctly  to  the  right,  he  would  be  in  a 
measure  following  her  advice  in  regard  to  life  in  general. 
Deeper  down  in  his  nature,  too,  there  lay  another  thought 
which  he  would  not  now  evoke,  lest  he  should  himself 
condemn  it  as  sentimental.  That  secret  promise  had  been 
honestly  intended,  and  had  been  addressed  to  the  memory 
of  one  who,  though  long  dead,  still  had  a  stronger  influ 
ence  over  him  than  any  one  now  living.  He  hardly  dared 
to  acknowledge  the  truth  of  this  and  the  real  meaning  of 
what  he  had  done,  lest,  if  he  failed  hereafter,  he  should 
have  to  accuse  himself  of  faithlessness  towards  the  one 
woman  to  whom  he  had  been  really  true,  and  whom,  if 
she  had  lived,  he  would  have  loved  till  the  end,  in  spite 
of  obstacles,  in  spite  of  mankind,  in  spite,  he  added 
defiantly,  of  Heaven  itself.  All  this  he  tried  to  keep  out 
of  sight,  while  firmly  resolving,  in  his  own  cynical  way, 
to  try  the  experiment  of  goodness  for  once,  and  to  do  no 
more  harm  in  the  world  if  he  could  help  it. 

He  thought  of  Laura  Arden,  too,  in  his  long  convales 
cence,  and  her  image  was  always  pleasant  to  his  inner 
vision,  as  the  impression  she  had  produced  on  him  was 
soothing  to  recall.  There  were  times  when  her  holy  eyes 
seemed  to  gaze  at  him  out  of  the  darker  corners  of  the 
room,  and  he  tried  often  to  bring  back  her  whole  presence. 
The  pleasure  such  useless  feats  of  imagination  gave  him 
was  artistic  if  it  was  anything,  because  he  admired  her 
beauty  and  had  always  delighted  in  it.  He  tried  to  fancy 
what  she  was  doing,  on  certain  days  when  he  thought 
more  of  her  than  usual,  and  to  follow  her  life  a  little, 
always  trying  in  a  vague  way  to  fathom  the  secret  of  the 
character  that  was  so  wonderful  in  his  estimation.  And 
always,  when  he  had  been  thinking  of  her,  he  came  back 
to  the  contemplation  of  his  own  immediate  interests  with 


20G  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

a  renewed  calm  and  with  a  peaceful  sense  that  there 
might  yet  be  better  days  in  store  for  him  — possibly 
days  in  which  he  should  himself  be  better  than  he  had 
been  heretofore. 

How  the  world  would  have  jeered,  could  it  have  sus 
pected  that  Pietro  Ghisleri  was  thinking  almost  seriously 
of  such  a  very  commonplace  subject  as  moral  goodness, 
as  he  lay  on  his  back,  day  after  day,  in  the  quiet  of  his 
room.  How  gladly  would  Adele  Savelli  have  changed 
places  with  the  man  who,  as  she  thought,  for  the  sake  of 
a  bit  of  gossip  she  had  invented  out  of  spite,  had  nearly 
lost  his  life ! 


CHAPTER   XV. 

WHEN  Ghisleri  was  at  last  able  to  go  out  of  the  house, 
his  first  visit  was  to  Maddalena  dell'  Armi.  He  had 
written  a  line  to  say  that  he  was  coming,  and  she  expected 
him.  The  meeting  was  a  strange  one,  for  both  felt  at 
first  the  constraint  of  their  mutual  position.  Ghisleri 
looked  at  her  face,  which  had  been  so  hard  when  he  had 
last  seen  it,  and  he  saw  that  it  had  softened.  There  were 
no  signs  of  suffering,  however,  and  her  expression  was 
almost  as  placid  as  his  own.  He  raised  her  hand  to  his 
lips  and  sat  down  opposite  to  her.  Then  the  light  fell 
on  his  face  and  she  saw  how  changed  he  was.  bhe 
remembered  how  he  had  looked  when  she  had  seen  him 
after  he  was  wounded,  and  she  saw  that  he  was  almost  as 
pale  now  as  then,  and  that  he  was  thin  almost  to  emaci 
ation.  . 
"Are  you  really  growing  strong  again.'*  she  asked 

a  tone  of  anxiety. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  he  answered  with  a  smile.  I  feel  as 
though  I  were  quite  well  — a  little  gaunt  and  weak,  per 
haps,  but  that  will  soon  pass.  And  you  —  how  have  you 
spent  your  time  in  all  these  weeks  since  I  last  saw  you/ 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  207 

"  Very  much  as  usual, "  replied  Maddalena,  and  sud 
denly  a  weary  look  came  into  her  eyes.  "  If  you  care  to 
know  —  as  long  as  you  were  really  in  danger  I  did  not 
go  out.  Then  I  went  everywhere  again,  and  tried  to 
amuse  myself." 

"Did  you  succeed?"  asked  Ghisleri,  trying  hard  to 
speak  cheerfully.  There  had  been  something  hopeless  in 
Maddalena's  tone  which  shocked  him  and  pained  him. 

"  More  or  less.     Why  do  you  ask  me  that?  " 

"Because  I  am  interested." 

"Do  you  care  for  me  in  the  least  —  in  any  way?"  she 
asked  abruptly. 

"  You  know  that  I  do  —  " 

"How  should  I  know  it? " 

Ghisleri  did  not  reply  at  once,  for  the  question  was  not 
easily  answered.  Maddalena  waited  in  silence  until  he 
should  speak. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right, "  he  said  at  last.  "  You  have 
no  means  of  knowing  it,  and  I  have  no  means  of  proving 
it.  Dearest  lady,  since  we  have  both  changed  so  much, 
do  you  not  think  you  could  believe  a  little  in  my  friend 
ship?" 

"We  ought  to  be  friends  —  you  should  be  my  best 
friend." 

"I  mean  to  be,  if  you  will  let  me." 

A  long  silence  followed.  Maddalena  sat  quite  still, 
leaning  back  in  a  corner  of  the  sofa  and  looking  at  a  pic 
ture  on  the  opposite  wall.  Ghisleri  sat  upright  on  a 
chair  at  a  little  distance  from  her. 

"  You  say  that  you  will  be  my  friend,  if  I  will  let  you," 
she  said  slowly,  after  several  minutes.  "Even  if  you 
could  imagine  that  I  could  not  wish  it,  you  ought  to  be 
my  best  friend  just  the  same.  If  I  made  you  suffer 
every  hour  of  the  day  as  I  did  on  that  last  night,  you 
ought  to  bear  it,  and  never  have  one  unkind  thought  of 
me.  No;  do  not  answer  me  yet:  I  have  much  more  to 
say.  You  know  that  I  have  always  told  you  just  what  I 
have  felt,  when  I  have  told  you  anything  about  myself. 


208  PIETRO   GHTSLERI. 

I  was  very  unhappy  when  we  met  at  that  ball  —  or,  rather, 
when  we  parted  — so  unhappy  that  I  hardly  knew  what 
I  said.  I  ought  to  have  waited  and  thought  before  I 
spoke.  If  I  could  have  guessed  that  you  were  to  be 
wounded  — well,  it  is  of  no  use  now.  I  am  very,  very 
fond  of  you.  In  spite  of  everything,  if  you  felt  the  least 
love  for  me  still,  however  little,  I  would  say,  'Let  us  be 
as  we  were,  as  long  as  it  can  last.'  As  it  is  — ' 

She  paused  and  looked  at  him.  He  knew  what  she 
meant.  If  there  were  a  spark  of  love,  she  would  forget 
everything  and  take  him  back  on  any  terms.  For  a 
moment  the  old  struggle  was  violently  resumed  in  his 
heart.  Ought  he  not,  for  her  sake,  to  pretend  love,  and 
to  live  out  his  life  as  best  he  could  in  the  letter  of  devo 
tion  if  not  in  the  true  spirit  of  love?  Or  would  not  such 
an  attempt  necessarily  be  a  failure,  and  bring  her  more 
and  more  unhappiness  with  each  month  and  year?  He 
only  hesitated  for  an  instant  while  she  paused ;  then  he 
determined  to  say  nothing.  That  was  really  the  turning- 
point  in  Pietro  Grhisleri's  life. 

"As  it  is,"  continued  Maddalena,  a  little  unsteadily, 
but  with  a  brave  effort,  "nothing  but  friendship  is  pos 
sible.  Let  it  at  least  be  a  true  and  honest  friendship 
which  neither  of  us  need  be  ashamed  of.  Let  all  the 
world  see  it.  Go  your  way,  and  I  will  go  mine,  so  far  as 
the  rest  is  concerned.  If  you  love  Lady  Herbert,  marry 
her,  if  she  will  have  you,  when  her  mourning  is  over." 

"I  do  not  love  Lady  Herbert  at  all,"  said  Ghisleri 
with  perfect  truth. 

«  Well  —  if  you  should,  or  any  other  woman.  -Let  the 
world  say  what  it  will,  it  cannot  invent  anything  worse 
than  it  has  said  of  me  already.  You  owe  me  nothing - 
nothing  but  that,  —  to  be  a  true  friend  to  me  always,  as  I 
will  be  to  you  as  long  as  I  live." 

She  put  out  her  hand,  and  he  took  it  and  pressed  it. 
As  she  felt  his,  the  bright  tears  started  to  her  eyes. 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  asked  tenderly,  bending  towards  her 
as  he  spoke. 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  209 

"Nothing,"  she  answered  hastily.  "Your  hand  is  so 
thin  —  how  foolish  of  me !  I  suppose  you  will  grow  to 
be  as  strong  as  ever?" 

He  saw  how  she  still  loved  him,  in  spite  of  all.  It  was 
not  too  late  even  now  to  renew  the  comedy,  but  his 
resolution  had  grown  strong  and  unalterable  in  a  few 
moments. 

"You  are  much  too  good  to  me,"  he  said  softly.  "I 
have  not  deserved  it  —  but  I  will  try  to." 

"  Do  not  let  us  speak  of  all  this  any  more  for  the  pres 
ent,"  she  replied.  "Since  we  are  friends,  let  us  talk  of 
other  things,  as  friends  do." 

It  was  not  easy,  but  Ghisleri  did  his  best,  feeling  that 
the  effort  must  be  made  sooner  or  later  and  had  therefore 
best  be  made  at  once.  He  kept  up  the  conversation  for 
nearly  half  an  hour,  and  then  rose  to  go. 

"Are  you  not  very  tired?"  asked  Maddalena,  anx 
iously. 

"Not  at  all.     I  am  much  stronger  than  I  look." 

"  Indeed  I  hope  you  are ! "  she  answered,  looking  at 
him  sadly.  "Good-bye.  Come  soon  again." 

"  Yes,  I  will  come  very  soon." 

Ghisleri  went  out  and  had  himself  driven  about  the 
city  for  an  hour  in  the  bright  spring  weather.  It  was 
all  new  to  him  now,  and  he  looked  at  people  and  things 
with  a  sort  of  interest  he  had  long  forgotten  to  feel.  A 
few  of  his  acquaintances  recognised  him  at  once,  and 
waved  their  hats  to  him  if  they  chanced  to  be  men,  or 
made  pretty  gestures  with  their  hands  if  they  were 
women.  But  the  greater  number  did  not  know  him  at 
first,  and  stared  after  the  death-like  face  and  the  gaunt 
figure  wrapped  in  a  fur  coat  that  had  grown  far  too  wide. 

He  was  very  glad  that  the  first  meeting  with  Madda 
lena  was  over,  for  he  had  looked  forward  to  it  with  con 
siderable  anxiety.  Something  like  what  had  actually 
been  said  about  friendship  had  been  inevitable,  as  he  now 
saw,  but  he  had  not  realised  how  much  he  was  still  loved, 
nor  that  Maddalena  could  so  far  humiliate  herself  as  to 


210  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

show  that  she  cared  for  him  still,  and  to  offer  a  renewal 
of  their  old  relations.  Even  now,  could  he  have  seen  her 
pale  and  tear-stained  face  as  she  sat  motionless  in  the 
place  where  he  had  left  her,  he  might  possibly  have  been 
weak  enough  to  yield,  strong  as  his  determination  was 
not  to  do  so.  But  that  sight  was  spared  him,  and  he 
was  glad  that  he  had  held  his  peace  when  she  had  paused 
to  give  him  an  opportunity  of  speaking.  It  was  far  bet 
ter  so.  To  act  a  miserable  play  with  her,  no  matter  from 
what  so-called  honourable  motive  of  consideration,  would 
be  to  make  her  life  far  more  unhappy  than  it  would  ulti 
mately  be  if  she  knew  the  truth.  He  was  satisfied  with 
what  he  had  done,  therefore,  when  he  went  back  to  his 
rooms  and  lay  down  to  rest  after  the  fatigue  of  his  first 
day  out.  But  the  meeting  had  left  a  very  sad  and  pain 
ful  impression,  and  all  that  he  felt  of  remorse  and  regret 
for  what  he  had  done  was  doubled  now.  He  hated  to 
think  that  by  his  fault  she  was  cast  upon  the  world,  with 
little  left  to  save  her,  "trying  to  amuse  herself,"  as  she 
had  said,  and  he  wondered  at  her  gentleness  and  kind 
ness  to  himself,  so  different  from  her  behaviour  at  their 
last  meeting.  That,  at  least,  comforted  him .  In  a  woman 
who  could  thus  forgive  there  must  be  depths  of  goodness 
which  would  ultimately  come  to  the  surface.  He  remem 
bered  how  often  he  had  thought  her  hard,  unjust,  unkind, 
and,  above  all,  unbelieving,  in  the  days  that  succeeded 
the  first  outbursts  of  unreasoning  love,  and  how,  even 
while  loving  her,  he  had  not  always  found  it  easy  not  to 
judge  her  harshly.  She  was  very  different  now.  Possi 
bly,  since  she  felt  that  she  had  lost  her  old  power  over 
him,  she  would  be  less  impatient  with  him  when  she  did 
not  understand  him,  and  when  he  displeased  her.  Come 
what  might,  treat  him  as  she  would,  he  owed  her  faithful 
allegiance  and  service  —  and  those  at  least  he  could  give. 
He  could  never  atone  to  her,  but  in  the  changing  scenes 
of  the  world  he  might,  by  devoting  to  her  interest  all 
the  skill  and  tact  he  possessed,  make  her  life  happier  and 
easier. 


PIETKO   GHISLERI. 

Before  niglit  lie  received  a  note  from  Laura  Arden. 
She  wrote  that  she  had  seen  him  driving,  though  he  had 
not  seen  her  pass,  as  he  had  been  looking  in  the  opposite 
direction.  If  he  was  able  to  bear  the  fatigue  of  making 
a  call,  she  begged  that  he  would  come  to  her  at  any  hour 
he  chose  to  name,  as  she  wished  to  speak  to  him.  He 
answered  at  once  that  he  would  be  at  her  house  on  the 
following  day  at  three  o'clock. 

He  knew  very  well  what  she  wanted,  and  why  she  did 
not  wait  until  he  came  of  his  own  accord.  She  meant  to 
speak  to  him  of  the  duel,  and  her  questions  would  be 
hard  to  answer,  since  she  was  probably  in  ignorance  of 
many  details  of  his  former  life,  familiar  enough  to  people 
of  his  own  age.  He  knew,  of  course,  that  the  world  said 
he  had  really  fought  on  her  account,  and  that  he  could 
never  prevail  upon  the  world  to  think  otherwise.  But  he 
was  very  anxious  that  Laura  herself  should  know  the  truth. 
She  might  forgive  him  for  having  let  people  believe  that 
she  had  been  concerned  in  the  matter  rather  than  Madda- 
lena  dell7  Armi,  out  of  womanly  consideration  for  the 
latter,  but  she  would  assuredly  not  pardon  him  if  she 
continued  to  suppose  that  he  had  made  her  the  subject  of 
useless  gossip. 

The  situation  was  not  an  easy  one. 

At  the  appointed  hour  he  entered  her  drawing-room. 
He  was  almost  startled  by  her  beauty  when  he  first  saw 
her  standing  opposite  to  him.  She  had  developed  in 
every  Avay  during  the  many  weeks  since  he  had  seen  her. 
The  perfectly  calm  and  regular  life  she  led  had  produced 
its  inevitable  good  effect.  She,  on  her  part,  was  almost 
as  much  shocked  by  his  looks  as  Macldalena  had  been. 

"Have  I  not  asked  too  much  of  you?"  she  inquired, 
pushing  forward  a  comfortable  chair  for  him,  and  arrang 
ing  a  cushion  in  it. 

" Not  at  all.  Thanks,"  he  added,  as  he  sat  down,  " you 
are  very  good,  but  pray  do  not  imagine  that  I  am  an 
invalid." 

"I  only  saw  you  in  the  street,"  she  said,  almost  apolo- 


212  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

getically.     "I  did  not  realise  how  desperately  ill  you 
still  looked.     Please  forgive  me." 

"  But  I  should  have  come  to-day  or  to-morrow  in  any 
case, "  protested  Ghisleri.  "  After  what  has  happened  — 
yes,  I  think  I  know  why  you  sent  for  me.  You  have 
heard  what  every  one  is  saying.  The  men  who  came  to 
see  me  before  I  could  go  out  told  me  all  about  it.  I  knew 
beforehand  that  it  would  turn  out  as  it  has,  though  we 
gave  our  seconds  another  excuse,  as  you  have  probably 
also  heard,  and  which,  if  the  truth  were  known,  was 
much  nearer  to  betraying  the  cause  of  the  quarrel  than 
any  one  supposed.  Am  I  right?  You  wished  to  ask  me 
why  I  had  the  impertinence  to  fight  a  duel  about  you. 
Is  that  it?" 

"I  would  not  put  it  in  that  way,"  said  Laura.  "But 
I  did  wish  to  ask  you  why  you  took  the  matter  up  so 
violently.  Please  do  not  enter  into  the  question  now  — 
you  are  not  strong  enough.  I  am  very  sorry  indeed  that 
I  wrote  to  you." 

"  You  need  not  be,  for  I  am  quite  able  to  tell  you  all 
about  it.  I  have  thought  the  matter  over,  and  I  think 
you  will  forgive  me  if  I  tell  you  the  whole  story  from 
beginning  to  end.  It  is  a  confidence,  and  I  have  not  the 
least  fear  that  you  will  betray  it.  If  you  are  not  willing 
to  hear  it,  you  will  always  believe  that  I  have  wantonly 
made  you  the  talk  of  the  town.  It  is  entirely  to  justify 
myself  in  your  eyes  that  I  ask  you  to  listen  to  what  I  am 
going  to  say.  Some  points  may  shock  you  a  little.  Have 
I  your  leave?" 

"  Yes  —  if  you  really  wish  to  tell  me  for  your  own  sake. 
For  mine,  I  do  not  ask  you  to  tell  me  anything. " 

"  It  is  for  my  own  sake.  I  am  quite  selfish.  When 
you  have  heard  all,  you  will  know  more  or  less  the  his 
tory  of  my  life,  of  which  many  people  know  certain 
details." 

He  paused  and  leaned  back  in  his  deep  chair,  closing 
his  eyes  a  moment  as  though  he  were  collecting  his 
thoughts.  Laura  settled  herself  to  listen,  turning  in  her 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  213 

seat  so  as  not  to  face  him,  but  so  that  she  could  look  at 
him  while  he  was  speaking. 

"I  have  never  told  any  one  this  story,"  he  began,  "for 
T  have  never  had  any  good  reason  for  doing  so.     When 
I  was  a  very  young  man  I  loved  the  Princess  Corleone, 
who  was,  by  her  maiden  name,  Donna  Bianca  Campodo 
nico,  the  daughter  of  the  old  Duca  di  Norba  who  died  of 
paralysis,  and  own  sister  to  Gianforte  Campodonico,  with 
whom  I  fought  this  duel.     I  loved  that  lady  with  all  my 
heart  to  the  day  of  her  death,  and  being  young  and  tact 
less,  I  showed  it  too  much.     Her  brother,    Gianforte, 
hated  me  in  consequence,  because  there  was  talk  about 
his    sister   and   me  —  and    our  names   were   constantly 
coupled  together.     I  did  my  best  to  remain  on  civil  terms 
with  him,  but  at  last  he  insulted  me  openly  and  we  fought. 
This  first  duel  took  place  a  little  more  than  six  years  ago, 
in  Naples,  where  Donna  Bianca  lived  after  her  marriage. 
Campodonico  did  his  best  to  kill  me,  and  at  last  I  ran 
him  through  the  arm.     On  the  ground,  without  heeding 
the  slight  wound  which  disabled  his  right  arm,   he  de 
manded  pistols,  but  the  seconds  on  both  sides  refused, 
and  declared   the   affair   terminated.     As   the   original 
challenge   had   come  from  me,   his  position  was  quite 
untenable.     He  sought  occasion  after  that  to  insult  me 
again,  but  I  avoided  him.     Then  the  Princess  fell  ill. 
Two  days  before  she  died,  she  had  herself  carried  into 
the  drawing-room,  and  sent  for  me.     Her  brother  was 
already  there.     She  made  us  both  promise  that  for  her 
sake  we  would  never  quarrel  again.     We  joined  hands 
and  solemnly  bound  ourselves,  for  we  knew  she  was  dying. 
Then  I  took  leave  of  her.     I  never  saw  her  again,  and  I 
shall  not  see  her  hereafter." 

He  paused  a  moment,  but  not  a  muscle  of  his  face 
betrayed  emotion.  Laura  had  listened  with  breathless 
interest. 

"Do  not  say  that,"  she  said  softly. 
"I  lived  alone  for  a  long  time,"  continued  Ghisleri, 
without  heeding  her  remark.     "  Then  at  last  I  came  back 


214  PIETKO   GHISLERI. 

to  the  world,  and  did  many  things,  mostly  bad,  of  which 
I  need  not  speak.  I  fell  a  little  in  love,  now  and  then,  and 
at  last  somewhat  more  seriously  with  a  lady  of  whom  we 
will  not  speak,  against  whose  good  name  no  slander  had 
ever  been  breathed.  Now  I  come  to  the  events  which 
caused  the  duel.  People  have  been  saying  that  you  have 
the  evil  eye  and  are  a  jettatrice.  The  absurd  tale  is 
repeated  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  will  ultimately  make 
society  here  unbearable  for  you.  You  are  enough  of  a 
Roman  to  understand  that.  There  was  a  big  dinner  at 
San  Giacinto's  one  night,  and  Campodonico  and  I  sat 
opposite  to  each  other.  He  believes  in  this  nonsense 
and  I  do  not.  Pietrasanta  mentioned  your  name,  and 
accidentally  broke  a  glass  at  almost  the  same  moment. 
Then  a  discussion  arose  about  the  existence  of  such  a 
thing  as  the  evil  eye,  and  Campodonico  and  I  talked  about 
it  across  the  table,  while  everybody  listened.  We  ex 
changed  a  few  rather  incisive  remarks,  but  nothing  more. 
That  was  the  end  of  the  matter  so  far  as  you  were  con 
cerned,  and  it  was  owing  to  this  discussion  that  people 
said  we  fought  on  your  account." 

"I  see,"  said  Laura.  "It  was  all  a  mistake,  then?" 
"  Yes.  P>ut  I  suppose  Campodonico  was  irritated.  In 
the  drawing-room  I  lit  a  cigarette,  and  stood  some  time 
looking  at  a  copy  of  Zichy's  picture  of  Tamara  falling  into 
the  Demon's  arms.  Tamara  chances  to  be  a  very  striking 
likeness  of  the  Princess  Corleone,  and  if  I  had  reflected 
that  Campodonico  might  have  also  noticed  the  fact,  I 
would  not  have  stood  there  looking  at  it  as  I  did.  But  I 
forgot.  Before  I  knew  it,  he  was  at  my  elbow,  evidently 
very  angry,  for  he  perfectly  understood  why  I  liked  the 
picture.  He  asked  me  whether  I  did  not  think  that  a 
solemn  promise  such  as  we  had  made  might  be  broken 
under  certain  circumstances.  I  said  I  did  not  think  so. 
He  lost  his  temper  completely,  and  said  I  was  a  coward. 
I  still  refused  to  quarrel  with  him,  and  he  grew  more  and 
more  insulting,  until  at  last  he  began  a  sentence  which  I 
would  not  let  him  end,  to  the  effect  that,  could  Donna 


PIETRO   GHISLEEI.  215 

Bianca  have  been  there  to  judge  us  both,  she  might  wish 
the  promise  broken  —  I  suppose  that  would  have  been  his 
inference  —  if  she  could  have  seen  that  the  man  she  had 
loved  had  fallen  so  low  as  to  love  the  lady  to  whom  I 
referred  a  little  while  ago.  He  named  her.  I  answered 
that  Donna  Bianca  never  meant  that  our  promise  should 
shield  the  liar  who  slandered  a  good  and  defenceless 
woman,  because  his  name  chanced  to  be  Campodonico. 
We  told  our  seconds  that  we  had  quarrelled  about  the 
talent  of  Zichy,  the*  painter  of  the  picture,  because  no 
immediate  and  better  excuse  suggested  itself.  That  is 
the  whole  story." 

"It  is  a  very  strange  one,"  said  Laura,  in  a  low  voice, 
and  looking  up  at  his  pale  face.  "  If  people  only  knew 
the  truth  about  what  they  see !  Tell  me,  Signer  Ghisleri, 
is  it  a  fact  that  you  did  not  fire  at  him?  " 

"Yes." 

"Why  did  you  not?" 

"Because  —  if  you  really  care  to  know  —  I  still  felt 
bound  to  my  promise,  and  I  should  never  have  forgiven 
myself  if  I  had  hurt  him.  Will  you  say  that  you  under 
stand  the  rest  of  the  story,  and  will  you  forgive  me  if  I 
let  it  be  thought  that  the  duel  was  about  you?  " 

"Indeed  I  forgive  you,"  Laura  answered  without  hesi 
tation.  "  You  acted  splendidly  all  through,  and  I  would 
not  —  " 

"Please  do  not  praise  me,"  said  Ghisleri,  interrupting 
her  with  word  and  gesture.  "Whatever  I  did  was  only 
the  consequence  of  former  actions  of  mine,  most  of  which 
were  bad  in  themselves.  Besides,  I  have  told  you  all 
this  by  way  of  an  apology,  and  I  thank  you  very  sincerely 
for  accepting  it.  Let  the  matter  end  there." 

"  Very  well.  That  need  not  prevent  me  from  thinking 
what  I  please,  need  it?  " 

"  I  shall  always  be  really  grateful  for  any  kind  thought 
you  give  me." 

Laura  was  silent  for  a  moment.  She  was  surprised  to 
find  that  her  old  feeling  of  dislike  for  him  had  greatly 


216  PIETEO   GHISLERI. 

diminished.  She  had  not  even  noticed  it  when  he  had 
entered  the  room,  for  she  had  been  at  once  struck  by  his 
appearance  of  ill-health,  and  her  first  instinct  had  been 
that  of  sympathy  for  him.  And  now,  whatever  effect  his 
personality  produced  on  her,  she  could  hardly  conceal 
her  admiration  of  his  conduct.  He  had  told  the  story 
very  simply,  and  she  felt  that  he  had  told  it  truthfully, 
and  that  she  was  able  to  judge  of  the  man  from  a  new 
point  of  view.  She  could  not  but  appreciate  the  courage 
he  had  shown  in  bearing  insult,  and  at  last,  in  not  return 
ing  his  adversary's  fire,  and  he  rose  in  her  estimation 
because  he  had  done  these  things  for  the  sake  of  a  woman 
he  had  really  loved. 

"  M:ay  I  ask  you  one  question?  "  she  inquired  after  the 
pause. 

"Of  course,  and  I  will  answer  it  if  I  can." 
"  I  dare  say  you  remember  something  you  told  me  about 
yourself  a  long  time  ago  — how  you  distrust  yourself, 
and  torment  yourself  about  everything  you  do.  Will  you 
tell  me  whether  you  have  found  any  fault  with  your  own 
conduct  in  this  affair,  apart  from  everything  which  went 
before  the  dinner  party  at  which  you  met  Don  Gianforte? 
It  would  interest  me  very  much  to  know." 

Ghisleri  thought  over  his  answer  for  a  few  seconds 
before  he  gave  it. 

"  Except  in  so  far  as  I  involved  your  name  in  the  affair, " 
he  said,  "  I  do  not  think  I  reproach  myself  with  anything 
very  definite." 

He  had  hardly  finished  speaking  when  the  door  opened, 
and  Donald  announced  Don  Francesco  and  Donna  Adele 
Savelli.  A  very  slight  shadow  passed  over  Laura's  face, 
as  she  rose  to  meet  her  step-sister,  but  Ghisleri  remained 
cold  and  impassive.  Adele  started  perceptibly,  as  Laura 
had  done,  when  she  saw  him,  and  Ghisleri  was  struck  by 
the  change  in  her  own  appearance.  Her  expression  was 
that  of  a  woman  who  is  in  almost  constant  pain,  and  who 
has  grown  restless  under  it,  and  fears  its  return  at  any 
moment.  Her  eyes  turned  uneasily,  glancing  about  the 


PIETRO   GHISLEIU. 


217 


room  in  all  directions,  and  avoiding  the  faces  of  those 
present.     She  was  pale,  too,  and  looked  altogether  ill. 

"I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,  Ghisleri,"  she  said,  after  she 
had  kissed  the  air  somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Laura's  cheek.  "I  had  no  idea  you  were  out  already, 
and  as  we  are  goin^  away  to-morrow,  I  was  afraid  I  might 
not  meet  you." 

"Are  you  going  out  of  town  so  soon?"  asked  Ghisleri, 
in  some  surprise. 

"Yes,  I  am  ill,  and  they  say  I  must  go  to  the  country. 
Do  you  remember  when  you  met  me  in  the  street,  and 
recommended  sulphonal?  I  took  it,  and  it  did  me  good 
for  some  time.  But  then,  all  at  once,  I  found  it  did  not 
act  so  well,  and  I  lost  my  sleep  again.  I  want  the  doctors 
to  give  me  something,  but  they  say  all  those  things 
become  a  habit  —  chloral,  you  know,  and  morphia,  and 
a  great  many  things.  As  if  I  cared!  I  would  not  mind 
any  habit  if  I  could  only  sleep  —  and  I  see  things  all 
night  —  ugh!  it  is  horrible!  Have  you  ever  had  insom 
nia?  It  is  quite  the  most  dreadful  thing  in  the  world." 
She  shuddered,  and  Ghisleri  could  see  well  enough  that 
the  suffering  to  which  she  referred  was  not  at  all  imag 
inary  . 

"No,"  he  answered.  "I  have  never  had  anything  of 
that  kind.  When  I  go  to  bed  at  all  I  sleep  five  or  six 
hours  very  soundly." 

"How  I  envy  you  that!  Even  five  or  six  hours  — I, 
who  used  to  sleep  nine,  and  always  ten  after  a  ball.  And 
now  I  very  often  do  not  close  my  eyes  all  night.  The 
sulphonal  did  me  so  much  good.  Can  you  not  tell  me  of 
something  else?" 

"  The  best  way  to  get  over  it  would  be  to  find  out  what 
causes  it,  and  cure  that,"  observed  Ghisleri.  "  Generally, 
too,  a  quiet  and  healthy  life,  exercise,  plain  food,  and  a 
good  conscience  will  do  good."  He  laughed  a  little  as  he 
spoke,  and  then  he  noticed  that  Adele  was  looking  at  him 
rather  strangely.  He  wondered  idly  whether  her  mind 
were  wandering  in  some  other  direction. 


PIETRO    GHISLEKI. 

"Of  course,"  he  continued,  "you  have  no  idea  of  what 
produces  the  trouble.  If  you  could  find  that  out,  it  would 
be  simpler." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  assented  Adele,  with  a  forced  smile. 
"  If  all  that  is  necessary  were  to  have  a  good  conscience 
and  walk  an  hour  or  two  every  day,  I  should  soon  get 
well." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  in  any  case.  Are  you  going 
to  Gerano,  or  to  your  own  place?  " 

"To  Gerano,  It  is  warmer.  Castel  Savello  is  too 
high  for  the  spring.  I  should  freeze  there.  It  would 
be  a  charity  if  you  would  drive  out  and  spend  a  day  or 
two  with  us,  when  you  are  stronger.  I  wish  you  would 
come  out  and  see  us,  Laura,"  she  said,  turning  to  her 
step-sister,  to  whom  Francesco  was  talking  in  a  low  voice. 
"You  used  to  like  Gerano  when  we  were  girls.  Do  you 
remember  dear  old  Don  Tebaldo,  who  used  to  shed  tears 
because  you  were  a  Protestant?" 

"  Indeed  I  do.  I  hear  he  is  alive  still.  It  is  two  years 
since  I  was  there  the  last  time.  Francesco  has  been  tell 
ing  me  all  about  your  illness.  I  am  so  sorry.  I  should 
think  you  would  do  better  to  consult  some  good  specialist. 
But,  of  course,  the  country  can  do  you  no  harm." 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Adele,  with  sudden  despondency. 
"  I  have  borne  enough  already.  I  could  not  bear  much 


more. 


"Nobody  can  understand  what  is  the  matter  with  her," 
observed  Francesco,  and  his  tone  showed  that  he  did  not 


care. 


"You  have  let  her  dance  too  much  this  winter,"  said 
Laura,  addressing  him.  "  You  ought  to  keep  her  from 
over-tiring  herself." 

"It  is  not  easy  to  prevent  Adele  from  doing  anything 
she  wishes  to  do,"  answered  Savelli.  "This  winter  she 
has  insisted  on  going  everywhere.  I  have  warned  her  a 
hundred  times,  but  she  would  not  listen  to  me,  and  of 
course  this  is  the  result." 

"When  did  it  begin?"  asked  Ghisleri,   who  seemed 


PIETKO    GHISLERI.  219 

interested  in  Adele's  mysterious  illness.     "  When  did  you 
first  lose  your  sleep?" 

"  You  remember, "  she  answered.  "  We  were  just  talk 
ing  of  our  meeting  in  the  street,  and  the  sulphonal.  It 
was  about  that  time  —  a  little  before  that,  of  course,  for 
I  had  been  suffering  several  days  when  I  met  you." 

"  Ah,  yes I  remember  when  that  was,"  said  Ghisleri, 

in  a  tone  of  reflection. 

He  joined  in  the  conversation  during  a  few  minutes 
longer,  and  then  took  leave  of  the  three.     Formerly  he 
would  have  gone  to  spend  an  hour  or  two  with  Madda- 
lena,  but  he  had  no  inclination  to  do  so  now.     He  would 
gladly  have  stayed  with  Laura  if  the  Savelli  couple  had 
not  come.     He  wished  to  be  alone,  now,  and  to  think 
over  what  he  had  done.     It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had 
ever  told  the  story  of  his  love  for  Bianca  Corleone  to  any 
one,  and  calm  as  he  had  seemed  while  telling  it,  he  had 
felt  a  very  strong  emotion.     He  was  glad  to  be  at  home 
again,  alone  with  his  own  thoughts,  and  with  the  picture 
that  reminded  him  of  the  dead  woman.     He  knew  that 
she  would  have  forgiven  him  for  speaking  of  her  to-day 
as  he  had  spoken,  and  to  such  a  woman  as  Laura  Arden. 
For  in  his  heart  he  compared  the  two.     There  had  been 
grand  lines  in  Bianca  Corleone' s  character,  as  there  were 
in  that  of  her  passionate  brother,  as  Ghisleri  believed 
there  must  be  in  Laura  Arden' s  also,  and  great  generos 
ities,  the  readiness  to  go  to  any  length  for  the  sake  of 
real  passion,  the  power  to  hate  honestly,  to  love  faith 
fully,  and  to  forgive  wholly  —  all  things  which  Pietro 
missed  in  himself.     And  Laura  had  to-day  Avaked  the 
memory  of  that  great  love  which  had  once  filled  his  exist 
ence,  and  which  had  not  ended  with  the  life  that  had 
gone  out  before  its  day,  in  all  its  beauty  and  freshness. 
He  was  grateful  to  her  for  that,  and  he  sat  long  in  his 
chair  after  his  lonely  meal,  thinking  of  her  and  of  the 
other,  and  of  poor  Maddalena  dell'  Armi,   whose  very 
name,  sounding  in  his  imagination,  sent  a  throb  of  remorse 
through  his  heart. 


220 


PIETRO    GHISLERI. 


A  pencil  lay  near  him  and  he  took  a  sheet  of  paper  and 
began  to  write,  as  he  often  did  when  he  was  alone,  scrib 
bling  verses  without  rhyme,  and  often  with  little  mean 
ing  except  in  their  connection  with  his  thoughts.  He 
was  no  poet. 

"A  sweet,  dark  woman,  with  sad,  holy  eyes, 
Laid  her  cool  hand  upon  my  heart  to-day, 
And  touched  the  dear  dead  thing  that's  buried  there. 
Her  saintly  magic  cannot  make  it  live, 
Nor  sting  once  more  with  passionate  deep  thrill 
The  bright  torn  flesh  where  my  lost  love  breathed  last. 

"  She  has  no  miracles  for  me  — nor  God 
Forgiveness,  nor  earth  healing  — nor  death  fear. 
I  think  I  fear  life  more  —  and  yet,  to  live 
Were  easy  work,  could  I  but  learn  to  die  ; 
As,  if  I  learned  to  live,  I  should  hate  death. 
But  I  cannot  hate  death  —  not  even  death  — 
Since  that  is  dead  which  made  death  hateful  once ; 
Nor  hate  I  anything  ;  let  all  live  on, 
Just  and  unjust,  bad,  good,  indifferent, 
Sinner  and  saint,  man,  devil,  angel,  martyr  — 
What  are  they  all  to  me  ?     Good  night,  sweet  rest  — 
I  wish  you  most  what  I  can  find  the  least. 
We  meet  again  soon.     Have  you  heard  the  talk 
About  the  latest  scandal  of  our  town  ? 
No  ?    Nor  have  I.     I  care  less  than  I  did 
About  the  men  and  women  I  have  known. 
Good  night  —  and  thanks  for  being  kind  to  me." 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

DOXNA  ADELE  SAVELLI  was  ill.  There  was  no  deny 
ing  the  fact,  though  her  husband  had  ignored  it  as  long 
as  possible,  and  was  very  much  annoyed  to  find  that  he 
could  not  continue  to  do  so  until  the  usual  time  for  mov 
ing  to  the  country  arrived.  As  has  been  said  already, 
the  world  attributed  her  ill-health  to  some  unexpected 


PIETRO   GHISLEBI.  221 

awakening  of  the  family  skeleton,  and  when  the  Savelli 
couple  suddenly  retired  to  G-erano,  it  was  sure  that  Fran 
cesco  had  lost  money  and  that  they  had  gone  for  economy. 
But  there  was  no  lack  of  funds  in  Casa  Savelli.  That 
ancient  and  excellent  house  had,  as  a  family,  a  keen 
appreciation  of  values  great  and  small,  and  continued  to 
put  away  more  of  its  income  in  safe  investments  than  any 
one  knew  of.  Nor  was  there  any  other  trouble  to  account 
for  Adele's  illness,  so  far  as  any  member  of  the  household 
could  judge.  Every  one  else  was  well,  including  the 
children.  Everybody  was  prosperous.  It  was  not  con 
ceivable  that  Adele  should  have  taken  Herbert  Arden's 
death  to  heart  in  a  way  to  endanger  her  own  health. 
She  might,  perhaps,  feel  some  remorse  for  having  spoken 
of  him  as  she  had  —  for  Savelli  had  discovered  that  some 
thing,  at  least,  of  the  gossip  could  be  traced  to  her  —  but 
she  could  not  be  supposed  to  care  so  much  as  to  fall  ill. 
What  she  suffered  from  was  evidently  some  one  of  those 
mysterious  nervous  diseases  which,  in  Francesco's  opin 
ion,  modern  medical  science  had  invented  expressly  in 
order  that  it  might  deal  with  them.  Unfortunately,  the 
particular  man  of  learning  who  could  cure  Adele  was  not 
forthcoming.  The  doctors  who  were  consulted  said  that 
something  was  preying  on  her  mind,  and  when  she  assured 
them  that  this  was  not  the  case,  they  shrugged  their 
shoulders  and  prescribed  soothing  medicines,  country  air, 
and  exercise.  She  particularly  dreaded  the  night,  and 
could  not  bear  to  be  left  alone  for  a  moment  after  dark. 
She  said  she  saw  things;  when  asked  what  things  she 
saw,  she  seemed  to  draw  upon  her  imagination.  Fran 
cesco  began  to  fear  that  she  might  go  mad,  though  there 
was  no  insanity  in  the  Braccio  family.  The  prospect  was 
not  pleasing,  and  he  would  have  greatly  preferred  that 
she  should  die  and  leave  him  at  liberty  to  marry  Laura 
Arden.  He  never  dreamed  that  the  latter  would  refuse 
to  wed  the  heir  of  all  the  Savelli,  if  he  were  free  to  ask 
her  hand,  and  in  his  cautions,  unenterprising  fashion  he 
loved  her  still,  while  remaining  religiously  faithful  to 


222  PIETEO   GHISLEK1. 

his  wife  —  and  not,  on  the  whole,  treating  her  unkindly. 
The  consequence  of  all  this  was  that  he  made  her  try  the 
simple  cure  suggested  by  the  doctors,  and  accompanied 
her  to  Gerano  in  the  early  spring. 

The  hereditary  stronghold  from  which  the  head  of  the 
Braccio  family  took  his  principal  title  was  a  vast  and 
gloomy  fortress  in  the  lower  range  of  the  Sabine  moun 
tains,  situated  in  a  beautiful  country,  and  overlooking  the 
broad  Campagna  that  lay  between,  it  and  the  distant  sea. 
The  great  dark  walls  were  flanked  by  round  towers,  and 
were  in  some  places  ten  and  twelve  feet  thick,  so  that  the 
deep  embrasures  of  the  windows  were  in  themselves  like 
little  rooms  opening  off  the  great  halls  behind.  The 
furniture  was  almost  all  old,  and  was  well  in  keeping 
with  the  vaulted  ceilings,  the  frescoed  friezes,  and  the  dark 
marble  door-posts.  Donna  Adele's  sleeping-chamber  was 
as  large  as  most  of  the  drawing-rooms  in  the  Palazzo 
Braccio,  and  her  dressing-room  was  almost  of  the  same 
size.  To  reach  the  hall  in  which  she  and  her  husband 
dined,  it  was  necessary  to  traverse  five  other  rooms  and  a 
vaulted  passage  fifty  or  sixty  yards  long,  in  which  the 
steps  of  any  one  who  passed  echoed  and  rang  on  the  stone 
pavement,  and  echoed  again  during  some  seconds  after 
wards  in  a  rather  uncanny  fashion.  The  sitting-room 
was  next  to  the  dining-hall,  and  consequently  also  at  a 
great  distance  from  the  bedrooms.  There  was  more  of 
comfort  in  it  than  elsewhere,  for  the  walls  were  hung 
with  tapestries,  and  there  was  a  carpet  on  the  floor, 
whereas  in  the  other  apartments  there  were  only  rugs 
thrown  down  here  and  there,  where  they  were  most  needed ; 
here,  too,  the  doors  had  heavy  curtains.  But,  on  the 
whole,  a  more  ghostly  and  gloomy  place  than  the  castle 
of  Grerano  could  hardly  be  imagined,  especially  at  dusk 
when  the  blackness  deepened  in  the  remote  corners  and 
recesses  of  the  huge  chambers,  and  the  sculptured  corbels 
of  grey  stone,  high  up  at  the  spring  of  each  arch,  grew 
shadowy  and  alive  with  hideous  grimaces  in  the  gather 
ing  dimness. 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  223 

Adele  had  never  been  subject  to  any  fear  of  the  super 
natural,  and  the  old  place  was  so  familiar  to  her  from 
childhood,  that  she  had  looked  forward  with  pleasure  to 
seeing  it  again.  She  was  attached  to  almost  everything 
connected  with  it,  to  the  walls  themselves,  to  her  own 
rooms,  to  the  ugly  corbels,  to  the  lame  old  warder,  Gia- 
como,  and  to  his  wife  who  helped  him  to  take  care  of  the 
rooms.  She  was  a  woman  quite  capable  of  that  sort  of 
feeling,  and  capable,  indeed,  of  much  more,  had  it  fallen 
in  her  path.  She  could  not  have  hated  as  she  did,  if  she 
had  not  had  some  power  to  love  also.  Circumstances, 
however,  had  developed  the  one  far  more  than  the  other, 
for  her  first  great  passion  had  been  jealousy. 

She  and  Francesco  reached  the  castle  in  the  afternoon 
of  the  day  following  their  visit  to  Laura  Arden.  The 
weather  was  fine  and  the  westering  sun  streamed  through 
the  broad  windows  and  lent  everything  a  passing  air  of 
life  and  almost  of  gaiety.  During  the  first  hours,  Adele 
felt  that  she  must  soon  be  better,  and  that  she  could  find 
some  rest  at  last  in  the  atmosphere  which  recalled  her 
childish  days  and  all  her  peaceful  girlhood. 

But  when  the  sun  was  low  and  the  golden  light  turned  to 
purple  and  then  to  fainter  hues,  and  died  away  into  twi 
light,  she  shivered  as  she  sat  in  the  deep  window-seat,  and 
she  called  to  her  husband,  telling  him  to  order  the  lamps. 

"  You  used  to  like  the  dusk, "  he  observed,  as  he  tugged 
at  the  old-fashioned  bell-rope.  "  I  cannot  imagine  what 
makes  you  so  afraid  of  being  in  the  dark." 

"Xor  I,"  she  said  nervously.  "It  must  be  part  of  my 
illness.  Please  have  as  much  light  as  possible,  and  lamps 
in  the  passage  and  in  our  rooms  as  well." 

"  I  suppose  candles  will  do,"  answered  Savelli.  "  I  do 
not  believe  there  are  more  than  half  a  dozen  lamps  out 
here.  Your  people  always  bring  them  when  they  come." 

"Oh,  candles,  then  —  anything!  Only  let  me  have 
plenty  of  light.  If  there  were  no  night,  I  should  get 
well." 

"  Unfortunately,  nature  has  not  provided  that  form  of 


224  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

cure  for  invalids,"  said  Savelli,  with  a  laugh.  "But  we 
will  do  our  best,"  he  added,  always  willing  to  humour 
his  wife  in  anything  reasonable. 

The  servants'  quarters  were  very  far  away,  and  several 
minutes  elapsed  before  a  man  appeared,  and  Francesco 
could  give  the  necessary  orders.  The  gloom  deepened, 
and  Adele  came  from  her  place  at  the  window,  evidently 
in  some  sort  of  distress.  She  sat  down  close  to  her 
husband  —  almost  cowering  at  his  side.  He  could  not 
see  her  face  clearly,  but  he  understood  that  she  was 
frightened. 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  what  it  is  you  see  in  the 
dark,"  he  said,  with  a  sort  of  good-natured  impatience. 
"  Oh,  please  do  not  talk  about  it!  "  she  cried.  " Talk 
to  me  of  something  else  — talk,  for  Heaven's  sake,  talk, 
until  they  bring  the  lamps !  I  sometimes  think  I  shall 
go  mad  when  there  is  no  light." 

It  is  not  a  particularly  easy  affair  to  comply,  at  short 
notice,  with  such  a  request  for  voluble  conversation, 
especially  when  there  is  no  extraordinary  sympathy 
between  two  people,  nor  any  close  community  of  ideas. 
But  it  chanced  that  Savelli  had  been  reading  the  papers 
he  had  brought  with  him,  and  he  began  to  tell  Adele  the 
news  he  had  read,  so  that  he  managed  to  keep  up  a  fairly 
continuous  series  of  sentences  until  the  first  lamp  was 
placed  on  the  table. 

"  Thank  you,  Carissimo, "  she  said.  "  No  shade ! '  she 
exclaimed  quickly,  as  the  man  was  about  to  slip  one  over 
the  light. 

"Do  you  feel  better  now?"  inquired  Francesco,  with 
some  amusement. 

"Yes much  better,"  she  answered,  drawing  a  long 

breath,  and  seating  herself  by  the  table  in  the  full  glare 
of  the  unshaded  lamp.  "  I  only  ask  one  thing,"  she  con 
tinued  :  "  Do  not  leave  me  if  you  can  help  it,  and  go  with 
me  when  we  go  to  our  room.  I  am  ashamed  of  it,  but  I 
am  so  nervous  that  I  am  positively  afraid  to  be  alone." 
"  Would  it  not  be  better  to  have  a  nurse  out,  to  stay 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  225 

with  you  all  the  time?  "  inquired  Francesco,  who  had  an 
eye  to  his  own  liberty  and  comfort,  and  had  no  idea  of 
spending  several  weeks  in  perpetual  attendance  on  his 
wife.  "And  there  is  your  maid,  too.  She  might  help." 

"  I  have  taken  such  a  dislike  to  that  woman  that  I  hate 
the  sight  of  her." 

"I  suppose  that  is  a  part  of  your  illness,"  answered 
her  husband  philosophically. 

On  that  first  evening  he  scrupulously  fulfilled  her 
wishes,  and  followed  her  closely  when  she  went  from  room 
to  room.  He  was  in  a  certain  degree  anxious,  for  her 
allusion  to  possible  madness  coincided  with  his  own  pre 
conceived  opinion  of  her  case,  and  he  dreaded  such  a 
termination  very  greatly.  He  saw  that  what  she  said 
was  quite  true,  and  that  she  was  unaffectedly  frightened 
if  he  left  her  side  for  a  moment.  On  the  following  day 
he  sent  a  messenger  to  the  city  to  procure  a  nurse,  for  he 
saw  that  he  could  not  otherwise  count  on  an  hour's  free 
dom.  Being  a  careful  man,  he  wished  that  Adele  might 
have  been  contented  to  be  followed  about  by  her  maid 
and  a  woman  from  the  place,  but  she  refused  altogether 
to  agree  to  such  an  arrangement.  In  her  nervous  condi 
tion,  she  could  not  bear  the  constant  presence  of  a  person 
for  whom  she  felt  an  unreasoning  repulsion.  Moreover, 
she  had  almost  decided  to  send  Lucia  away  and  to  get  some 
one  more  congenial  in  her  place. 

Several  days  passed  in  this  way,  and  if  she  was  no 
better  she  was  not  worse.  She  drove  and  walked  in  the 
spring  sunshine,  and  felt  refreshed  by  the  clear  air  of 
the  country,  but  the  nights  were  as  unbearable  as  ever,  — 
endless,  ghostly,  full  of  imaginary  horrors,  although  the 
lamps  burned  brightly  in  her  room  till  sunrise,  and  the 
patient  nurse  sat  by  her  bedside  reading  to  herself,  and 
sometimes  reading  aloud  when  Adele  desired  it.  Occa 
sionally,  and  more  often  towards  morning,  snatches  of 
broken  sleep  interrupted  the  monotony  of  the  long-drawn- 
out  suffering. 

Adele  had  implored  the  doctor  who  had  charge  of  her 


226  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

case  to  give  her  opiates,  or  at  least  chloral;  but  he  had 
felt  great  hope  that  the  change  to  a  country  life  would 
produce  an  immediate  good  effect,  and  had  represented 
to  her  in  terms  almost  exaggerated  the  danger  of  taking 
such  remedies.  The  habit  once  formed,  he  said,  soon 
became  a  slavery,  and  in  nervous  organisations  like  hers 
was  very  hard  to  break.  People  who  took  chloral  often 
ended  by  taking  morphia,  and  Donna  Adele  had  doubt 
less  heard  enough  about  the  consequences  of  employing 
this  drug  to  dread  it,  as  all  sensible  persons  did.  Adele 
was  very  far  from  being  persuaded,  but  as  she  could  not 
procure  what  she  wanted  without  a  doctor's  order,  which 
she  could  not  obtain,  she  was  obliged  to  fall  back  on  the 
sulphonal  which  Ghisleri  had  recommended  to  her.  She 
took  it  in  large  quantities,  but  it  had  almost  ceased  to 
produce  any  effect,  though  she  attributed  the  little  rest 
she  got  to  its  influence.  The  doctor  was  to  come  out  and 
see  her  at  the  end  of  a  week,  unless  sent  for  especially. 
Before  the  seven  days  were  out,  however,  a  crisis  occurred, 
brought  about  by  a  slight  accident,  which  made  his  pres 
ence  imperatively  necessary. 

One  evening,  immediately  after  dinner,  Adele  had 
seated  herself  in  a  low  chair  by  the  table  in  the  drawing- 
room,  and  had  taken  up  a  novel.  For  a  wonder,  it  had 
interested  her  when  she  had  begun  it  in  the  afternoon, 
and  she  returned  to  it  with  unwonted  delight,  looking 
forward  to  the  prospect  of  losing  herself  in  the  story 
during  a  few  hours  before  going  to  bed.  Not  far  from 
her  Savelli  sat  with  that  day's  papers,  gleaning  the  news 
of  the  day  in  an  idle  fashion,  and  smoking  a  cigarette. 
He  rarely  smoked  anything  else,  but  for  some  reason  or 
other,  he  had,  on  this  particular  night,  discovered  that 
only  a  cigar  would  satisfy  him.  Many  men  are  familiar 
with  that  craving,  but  the  satisfaction  of  it  rarely  leads 
to  distinct  and  important  results.  Francesco  rose  from 
his  seat,  laid  down  his  paper,  and  went  in  search  of  what 
he  wanted,  well  knowing  that  he  could  get  it  much  faster 
than  by  a  servant,  and  forgetting  that  he  must  leave  his 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  227 

wife  alone  for  a  few  minutes  in  order  to  go  to  his  dress 
ing-room  where  he  kept  the  box.     As  has  been  said,  the 
drawing-room  was  carpeted,  and  his  step  made  very  little 
noise.      Adele,    intensely   interested   in   what  she  was 
reading,  paid  less  attention  to  his  movements  than  usual, 
and  indeed  supposed  that  he  had  only  risen  to  get  some 
thing  from  another  table.     The  heavily  curtained  door 
which   opened  upon   the  great  vaulted  passage  before 
mentioned  was  behind  her  as  she  sat,  and  she  did  not 
realise  that  Francesco  was  gone  until  she  heard  his  echo 
ing  footsteps  on  the  stone  pavement  outside.     Then  she 
started,   and  almost  dropped  her  book.     She  held  her 
breath  for   a   moment   and  then   called   him.     But   he 
walked  quickly,  and  was  already  out  of  hearing.     Only 
the   booming   echo   reached  her   through  the   curtains, 
reverberated,  and  died  away.     There  was  nothing  to  be 
done  but  to  wait,  for  she  had  not  the  courage  to  face  the 
dim  passage  alone  and  run  after  him.     She  clutched  her 
book  tightly  and  tried  to  read  again,  pronouncing  almost 
aloud  the  words  she  saw.     A  minute  or  two  passed,  and 
then  she  heard  the  echo  again.     Francesco  was  return 
ing.     No,  it  was  not  his  walk.     She  turned  very  pale 
as  she  listened.     It  was  the  step  of  a  very  lame  man, 
irregular  and  painful.     The  novel  fell  to  the  ground,  and 
she  grasped  the  arms  of  her  chair.     It  was  exactly  like 
Arden's  step;  she  had  heard  it  before,  in  the  gallery  at 
her   father's   palace,    where   the   floor   was   of   marble. 
Nearer  and  nearer  it  came,  in  a  sort  of  triple  measure  — 
two  shorts  and  a  long,  like  an  anapaest  —  and  the  sharp 
click  of  the  stick  between.     She  tried  to  look  behind  her, 
but  her  blood  froze  in  her  veins,  and  she  could  not  move. 
Every  instant  increased  her  agony  of  fear.     A  moment 
more  and  Herbert  Arden  would  be  upon  her.     Suddenly 
a  second  echo,  that  of  Francesco  Savelli's  firm,   quick 
step  reached  her  ears.     Then  she  heard  voices,  and  as  the 
curtain  was  lifted  she  recognised  the  tones  of  old  Giacomo, 
the  lame  warder,  who  had  met  her  husband  in  the  pas 
sage,  and  was  asking  for  the  orders  to  be  given  to  the 


228  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

carter  who  started  for  Rome  every  other  night  and  brought 
back  such  provisions  as  could  not  be  obtained  in  Gerano. 

Adele  sank  back  in  her  chair,  almost  fainting,  in  her 
sudden  relief  from  her  ghostly  fears.  Savelli  talked 
some  time  with  Giacomo.  With  a  great  effort  at  self- 
command,  Adele  took  up  her  novel  again  and  held  it 
before  her  eyes,  while  her  heart  beat  with  terrible  vio 
lence  after  having  almost  stood  still  while  the  fright  had 
lasted.  Then  Francesco  came  in,  with  a  lighted  cigar 
between  his  teeth. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  send  anything  to  Rome  —  any  mes 
sage?"  he  asked.  " Nothing  else,  Giacomo,"  he  said,  as 
he  saw  that  she  shook  her  head. 

"Good  rest,  Excellency,"  she  heard  Giacomo  say. 
Then  the  curtain  dropped,  the  door  was  closed  from  with 
out,  and  she  listened  once  more  to  the  lame  man's  re 
treating  footsteps  —  terribly  like  Herbert  Arden's  walk, 
though  she  was  not  frightened  now. 

"I  asked  you  not  to  leave  me  alone,"  she  said,  as 
Savelli  resumed  his  seat  and  took  up  the  paper  again. 

"  It  was  only  for  a  minute,"  he  answered  indifferently. 
"  I  wanted  a  cigar.  I  hope  you  were  not  frightened  this 
time." 

"  No.  But  I  might  have  been.  Another  time,  please 
ring  for  what  you  want." 

Savelli,  who  was  already  deep  in  the  local  news  about 
Rome,  made  an  inarticulate  reply  intended  for  assent, 
and  nothing  more  was  said.  Adele  took  up  her  book 
again  and  did  her  best  to  read,  but  without  understand 
ing  a  word  as  she  followed  the  lines. 

That  night,  in  despair,  she  swallowed  a  larger  dose  of 
sulphonal  than  she  had  ever  taken  before.  The  conse 
quence  was  that  towards  two  o'clock  she  fell  asleep  and 
seemed  more  quiet  than  usual,  as  the  nurse  watched  her. 
An  hour  passed  without  her  waking,  then  another,  and 
then  the  dawn  stole  through  the  panes  of  the  deep  win 
dows,  and  daylight  came  at  last.  The  room  was  quite 
light,  and  Adele  was  generally  awake  at  that  hour.  But 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  229 

this  morning  she  slept  on.  The  nurse  was  accustomed  to 
take  away  the  lamps  as  soon  as  Adele  needed  them  no 
longer,  not  extinguishing  them  in  the  room  on  account  of 
the  disagreeable  smell  they  made.  It  chanced  on  this 
occasion  —  or  fate  had  decreed  it  —  that  one  of  these  gave 
signs  of  going  out.  The  nurse  rose  very  softly  and  took 
it  away,  moving  noiselessly  in  her  felt  slippers,  passing 
through  the  open  door  of  the  dressing-room  in  order  to 
reach  the  corridor  in  which  the  lamps  were  left  to  be 
taken  and  cleaned  at  a  later  hour.  She  set  the  one  she 
carried  upon  a  deal  table  which  stood  there,  and  tried  to 
put  it  out,  so  as  to  leave  no  part  of  the  wick  still  smoul 
dering,  lest  it  should  smoke.  She  was  a  very  careful  and 
methodical  woman,  and  took  pains  to  be  neat  in  doing  the 
smallest  things.  Just  now,  too,  she  was  in  no  hurry,  for 
it  was  broad  daylight,  and  Adele  would  not  be  nervous  if 
she  awoke  and  found  herself  alone. 

And  Adele  was  awake.  She  opened  her  eyes  wearily, 
realised  that  there  was  no  one  beside  her,  and  sat  up 
staring  at  the  bright  window.  Being  nervous,  restless, 
and  never  at  any  time  languid,  she  got  up,  threw  a  wrapper 
over  her,  and  went  to  the  door  of  the  dressing-room, 
meaning  to  look  at  the  rising  sun,  which  was  visible  from 
the  window  on  the  other  side,  the  dressing-room  itself 
being  at  one  of  the  angles  of  the  castle,  with  a  door  lead 
ing  from  the  corner  of  it  into  the  tower. 

Adele  paused  on  the  threshold,  started,  stared  at  some 
thing,  turned,  and  uttered  a  piercing  scream  of  terror. 
A  moment  later  she  fell  in  a  heap  upon  the  floor.  She 
had  distinctly  seen  Herbert  Arden's  figure  standing  at 
one  of  the  windows,  his  head  and  hands  alone  concealed 
by  the  inner  shutter  which,  by  an  accident,  was  not  wide 
open,  but  was  turned  about  half-way  towards  the  panes. 
He  was  dressed  in  dark  blue  serge,  as  she  had  often  seen 
him  in  life,  with  rather  wide  trousers  almost  concealing 
the  feet,  and  a  round  jacket.  She  had  even  seen  how  the 
cloth  was  stretched  at  the  place  where  his  shoulder  was 
most  crooked,  and  how  it  hung  loosely  about  his  thin 


230  PIETRO   GHISLERT. 

figure  below  that  point.  He  was  standing  close  to  the 
window,  with  his  back  almost  quite  turned  towards  her, 
apparently  looking  out,  though  the  shutter  hid  his  face. 
The  whole  attitude  was  precisely  as  she  had  often  noticed 
it  when  he  was  alive,  and  chanced  to  be  looking  at  some 
thing  in  the  street  —  the  misshapen,  protruding  shoulder, 
the  right  leg  bent  in  more  than  the  other,  not  a  detail  was 
missing  as  she  came  upon  the  vision  suddenly  in  the  cold 
morning  light. 

The  nurse  was  at  her  side  almost  instantly,  bending 
over  her  and  raising  her  as  well  as  she  could.  A  moment 
later  the  maid  rushed  in,  —  she  slept  on  the  other  side  of 
the  corridor  where  the  nurse  had  left  the  lamp,  —  and  then 
Francesco  Savelli  himself,  who  temporarily  occupied  a 
room  next  to  Adele's  and  who  appeared,  robed  in  a  wide 
dressing-gown  of  dark  brown  velvet,  and  showing  signs 
of  considerable  anxiety.  He  reached  the  door  before 
which  his  wife  had  fainted  and  lifted  her  in  his  arms.  As 
he  regained  his  upright  position,  his  eyes  naturally  fell 
upon  the  figure  standing  at  the  window.  His  sight  was 
not  remarkably  good,  and  from  the  fact  of  the  shutter 
being  half  closed  the  dressing-room  was  darker  than  the 
sleeping-chamber.  The  impression  he  had  was  strong 
and  distinct. 

"  Who  is  that  man?  "  he  asked,  staring  at  what  he  saw, 
while  he  held  Adele's  unconscious  form  in  his  arms. 

The  nurse  and  the  maid  both  started  and  looked  round. 
The  latter  laughed  a  little,  involuntarily. 

"  It  is  not  a  man,  Excellency,"  she  said.  "  It  is  Donna 
Adele's  serge  driving  cloak.  I  hung  it  there  last  night 
because  there  are  not  enough  hooks  in  the  dressing-room 
for  all  her  Excellency's  things." 

She  went  to  the  window  and  took  the  mantle,  which 
had  been  hung  upon  the  knob  of  the  old-fashioned  bolt 
by  the  two  tapes  sewn  under  the  shoulders  for  the  pur 
pose.  The  folds  of  the  lower  part  had  taken  the  precise 
shape  of  a  man's  wide  trousers,  and  the  cape,  falling  half 
way  only,  hung  exactly  like  a  jacket,  the  fulness  caused 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  231 

by  gathering  the  upper  portion  together  at  one  point, 
giving  the  appearance  of  a  hump  on  a  man's  back. 

"That  was  what  frightened  her,"  said  Savelli,  as  he 
turned  away  with  his  burden.  "I  do  not  wonder  — the 
thing  looked  just  as  Lord  Herbert  did  when  he  used  to 
stand  at  the  window." 

Adele  came  to  herself  in  a  state  of  the  utmost  prostra 
tion.  Her  husband  explained  to  her  carefully  what  had 
happened,  and  tried  to  persuade  her  that  she  had  been  the 
victim  of  an  optical  illusion,  but  though  she  did  not  deny 
this,  he  could  see  that  the  occurrence  had  produced  a  very 
deep  impression  on  her  mind,  and  had  perhaps  had  an 
even  more  serious  effect  on  her  nerves.  He  despatched 
a  messenger  to  Eome  for  the  doctor,  and  after  doing  all 
he  could  left  her  to  the  care  of  her  nurse  and  maid  and 
went  out  for  a  walk  in  the  hills,  glad  to  be  free  for  a 
while  from  the  irksome  task  imposed  upon  him  when  he 
remained  at  home. 

While  making  the  most  desperate  attempts  to  control 
herself,  Adele  was  in  a  state  of  the  wildest  and  most  con 
flicting  emotion.  Her  strength  returned,  indeed,  in  a 
certain  measure  after  a  few  hours,  but  her  distress  seemed 
rather  to  increase  than  to  diminish,  when  she  was  able  to 
walk  about  the  room  and  submit  to  being  dressed.  Her 
maid  irritated  her  unaccountably,  too,  and  at  last,  giving 
way  to  the  impulse  she  had  felt  so  long,  she  told  her  that 
she  must  go  at  the  end  of  the  month. 

The  maid,  Lucia  by  name,  had  for  some  time  expected 
that  her  days  in  Casa  Savelli  were  numbered,  for  Adele 
had  shown  her  dislike  very  plainly  of  late,  so  that  the 
woman  did  not  show  much  surprise,  and  accepted  her  dis 
missal  respectfully  and  quietly,  promising  herself  to  tell 
tales  in  her  next  place  concerning  Adele 's  toilette  which, 
though  without  the  slightest  foundation,  would  be  re 
peated  and  believed  all  over  Eome. 

Later  in  the  day  Adele  shut  herself  up  in  her  room,  at 
the  time  when  the  sunshine  was  streaming  in  and  making 
everything  look  bright  and  cheerful.  She  stayed  there 


232  PIETKO   GHISLERI. 

a  long  time,  and  the  thoughtful  Lucia,  watching  her 
through  the  keyhole,  saw  with  surprise  that  her  mistress 
spent  almost  an  hour  upon  her  knees  before  the  dark  old 
crucifix  which  hung  above  the  prayer-stool  opposite  to  the 
door  of  the  dressing-room.  She  noticed  that  Adele  from 
time  to  time  beat  her  breast,  and  then  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands  for  many  minutes.  The  nurse  was  asleep  far 
away  and  Lucia  was  quite  safe.  At  last  Adele  rose,  and 
as  though  acting  under  an  irresistible  impulse  sat  down 
at  a  table  on  which  she  kept  her  own  writing  materials, 
and  began  to  write  rapidly.  For  a  long  time  she  kept 
her  seat,  and  her  hand  moved  quickly  over  the  paper. 
Then,  when  she  seemed  to  have  finished,  she  took  up  the 
sheets  as  though  she  meant  to  read  them  over,  and  did  in 
fact  read  a  few  lines.  She  dropped  the  paper  suddenly, 
and  Lucia  saw  the  look  of  horror  that  was  in  her  white 
face.  She  seemed  to  hesitate,  rose,  turned,  and  made  two 
steps  towards  the  crucifix,  then  returned,  and  hastily 
folded  up  the  lengthy  letter  and  slipped  it  into  a  large 
envelope,  on  which  she  wrote  an  address  before  she  left 
the  table  a  second  time.  When  she  opened  the  door  of 
the  dressing-room  to  call  Lucia,  the  maid  was  quietly 
seated  by  a  window  with  a  piece  of  needle-work,  and  rose 
respectfully  as  her  mistress  entered. 

"Send  me  Giacomo,"  said  Adele,  holding  the  letter  in 
her  hand,  but  as  Lucia  went  towards  the  door,  she  stopped 
her.  "No, "she  said  suddenly.  "Take  this  to  him  your 
self;  tell  him  to  have  it  registered  at  once,  and  to  bring 
me  back  the  receipt  from  the  post-office.  Tell  him  to  be 
careful,  as  it  is  very  important.  I  am  going  to  lie  down. 
Come  to  me  some  time  before  sunset." 

Lucia  took  the  letter  and  went  out  into  the  corridor. 
Adele  listened  a  moment,  then  went  back  into  her  room, 
bolting  the  door  behind  her,  as  well  as  turning  the  key 
in  the  lock.  Since  her  fright  in  the  morning,  she  instinc 
tively  barricaded  herself  on  that  side.  But  at  present 
the  sunshine  was  so  bright  and  the  place  was  so  cheerful 
that  her  fears  seemed  almost  groundless. 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  233 

She  lay  down  and  closed  her  eyes.  In  spite  of  all  the 
emotions  of  terror  she  had  suffered  on  the  previous  even 
ing  and  to-day,  and  although  the  writing  of  any  letter  so 
long  as  the  one  she  had  just  finished  must  necessarily  be 
very  tiring,  she  felt  better  than  she  had  been  for  a  long 
time,  and  would  perhaps  have  fallen  asleep  if  the  doctor 
had  not  arrived  from  Rome  soon  afterwards. 

On  learning  all  that  had  happened,  he  yielded  at  last 
to  necessity,  and  gave  her  chloral  to  take  in  small  doses, 
showing  her  how  to  use  it.  It  was  evident  that  unless 
she  slept  she  must  break  down  altogether  before  long,  and 
it  was  no  longer  safe  to  let  nature  have  her  own  way.  He 
had  brought  the  medicine  with  him,  and  gave  it  into 
Francesco's  keeping,  cautioning  him  not  to  let  her  use  it 
in  larger  quantities  than  he  had  prescribed.  After  giving 
various  pieces  of  good  advice  he  returned  to  the  city. 

Lucia  gave  her  mistress  the  receipt  for  the  registered 
letter,  and  Adele  put  it  away  in  the  small  jewel-case  she 
had  brought  with  her  to  the  country.  That  night  she 
took  the  chloral,  and  fell  asleep  peacefully  before  half- 
past  eleven  o'clock,  not  to  awake  until  nearly  nine  on  the 
following  morning.  She  felt  so  much  better  for  the  one 
night's  rest  that  she  went  for  a  long  walk  with  her  hus 
band,  ate  well  for  the  first  time  in  many  weeks,  and  went 
to  bed  again  almost  without  having  felt  a  sensation  of 
fear  all  day  nor  during  the  evening.  Once  more  the 
chloral  had  the  desired  effect,  and  on  the  second  morning 
she  began  to  imagine  that  she  was  recovering.  The  world 
looked  bright  and  cheerful,  the  swallows  wheeled  and 
darted  before  her  windows,  and  the  thrushes  and  black 
birds  sang  far  down  among  the  fruit-trees.  Even  Fran 
cesco  was  less  tiresome  and  unsympathetic  than  usual. 
She  was  in  such  a  good  humour  that  she  almost  repented 
of  having  dismissed  Lucia. 

Then  the  blow  came.  The  post  brought  her  a  letter 
addressed  in  a  small,  even  handwriting,  very  plain  and 
entirely  without  nourish  or  ornament  —  such  a  hand  as 
learned  men  and  theologians  often  write.  The  contents 
read  as  follows : 


234  PIETKO   GHISLERI. 

"  MOST  EXCELLENT  PRINCESS,  I  have  to  inform  you  that  I  have 
just  received,  registered,  and  evidently  addressed  by  your  most  ex 
cellent  hand,  an  envelope  bearing  the  Gerano  postmark,  but  con 
taining  only  four  blank  sheets  of  ordinary  writing  paper.  As  I 
cannot  suppose  that  your  Excellency  has  designed  to  make  me 
the  object  of  a  jest,  and  as  it  is  to  be  feared  that  the  blank  paper 
has  been  substituted  for  a  writing  of  importance,  by  some  mali 
cious  person,  I  have  immediately  informed  your  Excellency  of 
what  has  occurred.  Awaiting  any  instruction  or  enlightenment 
with  regard  to  this  subject  which  it  may  please  you,  most  Excel 
lent  Princess,  to  communicate,  I  write  myself 

"  Your  Excellency's  most  humble,  obedient  servant, 

"  BON  A  VENTURA,  R.R.  P.  P.O.  Min." 

Now  Padre  Bonaventura  of  the  Minor  Order  of  St. 
Francis  was  Adele's  confessor  in  Borne.  After  the  long 
struggle  which  Lucia  had  watched  through  the  door, 
Adele's  conscience  had  got  the  upper  hand,  aided  by  the 
belief  that  in  following  its  dictates  she  would  be  doing 
the  best  she  could  towards  recovering  her  peace  of  mind. 
Not  being  willing  to  go  to  the  parish  priest  of  Gerano, 
who  had  known  her  and  all  her  family  from  her  childhood, 
and  who  was  by  no  means  a  man  able  to  give  very  wise 
advice  in  difficult  cases,  and  being,  moreover,  afraid  of 
rousing  her  husband's  suspicions  if  she  insisted  upon 
going  to  Kome  merely  to  confess,  she  had  written  out  a 
most  careful  confession  of  those  sins  of  which  she  accused 
herself,  and,  as  is  allowable  in  extreme  cases,  had  sent 
it  by  post  to  Padre  Bonaventura. 

The  news  that  such  a  document  had  never  reached 
its  destination  would  have  been  enough  to  disturb  most 
people. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

LAURA  ARDEN'S  plans  for  the  summer  were  not  by  any 
means  settled,  but  she  was  anxious  to  leave  Borne  soon, 
both  because  travelling  in  the  heat  would  be  bad  for  little 
Herbert,  and  because  she  wished  to  quit  the  rather 


PIETRO   GHISLBBI.  235 

expensive  apartment  in  which  she  had  continued  to  live 
after  her  husband's  death.  A  far  smaller  and  less  pre 
tentious  dwelling  would  be  amply  sufficient  for  her  next 
winter,  and  in  the  meantime  she  intended  to  go  to  some 
quiet  town  either  in  Switzerland  or  by  the  seaside,  and  to 
keep  as  much  alone  as  possible.  Her  mother  might  be 
willing  to  spend  a  month  or  two  with  her,  and  Laura 
would  be  very  glad  of  her  company,  but  there  was  no  one 
else  whose  society  she  desired.  She  could,  of  course,  go 
to  England  and  stay  at  her  brother-in-law's  house  in 
solemn  and  solitary  state,  but  she  feared  the  long  jour 
ney  for  her  child,  and  she  cared  little  for  the  sort  of 
existence  she  must  lead  in  the  magnificent  country-seat, 
in  the  absence  of  the  Lul worths  themselves.  It  would 
be  pleasant  to  lead  a  very  simple  and  quiet  life  somewhere 
out  of  the  world,  and  as  far  as  possible  from  the  scene 
of  all  her  sufferings.  If  Adele  and  Francesco  had  not 
appeared  while  G-hisleri  was  making  his  first  visit,  she 
would  probably  have  asked  his  advice.  He  had  been 
almost  everywhere,  and  being  himself  fond  of  solitude, 
would  in  all  likelihood  have  told  her  of  some  beautiful 
and  secluded  spot  where  she  could  live  in  the  way  she 
desired.  But  in  the  presence  of  her  step-sister  she  had 
not  cared  to  speak  on  the  subject. 

After  they  had  left  her  she  thought  a  long  time  of 
Ghisleri  and  his  story,  and,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life, 
she  wished  she  might  see  him  again  before  long.  He  had 
shown  her  a  side  of  himself  which  she  had  neither  seen 
nor  guessed  at  before,  and  she  began  to  understand,  dimly 
at  first  and  then  more  clearly,  the  strong  liking  her  hus 
band  had  always  shown  for  him.  He  was  capable  of  deep 
and  earnest  beliefs  and  of  high  and  generous  impulses, 
in  spite  of  his  contempt  for  himself  and  of  the  irregular 
life  he  led.  His  present  existence,  so  far  as  she  knew 
anything  of  it,  she  condemned  as  unworthy.  She  was 
not,  however,  a  woman  so  easily  shocked  at  the  spectacle 
of  evil  in  the  lives  of  others  as  might  have  been  expected. 
There  was  a  great  deal  of  sound  good  sense  in  the  compo- 


236  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

sition  of  her  character,  and  she  had  seen  enough  of  the 
world  to  have  learnt  that  perfection  is  a  word  used  to 
define  what  is  a  little  better  than  the  average.  What  she 
had  disliked  in  Ghisleri  from  her  first  acquaintance  with 
him  was  not  connected  with  his  reputation,  of  which,  at 
that  time,  she  had  known  very  little.  Besides,  though 
people  called  him  fast  and  wild  and  more  or  less  heart 
less,  he  was  liked,  on  the  whole,  as  much  as  any  unmar 
ried  man  in  society.  He  was  known  to  be  honourable, 
courageous,  and  very  discreet,  and  the  latter  quality 
almost  invariably  brings  its  reward  in  the  end.  That  he 
should  have  been  entangled  in  more  than  one  love  affair 
was  only  what  was  to  be  expected  of  such  a  man,  at  two 
or  three  and  thirty  years  of  age,  and  no  one  really  con 
sidered  him  any  the  worse  on  that  account,  while  the 
great  majority  of  women  thought  him  vastly  more  inter 
esting  for  that  very  reason.  Laura  was  not,  perhaps,  so 
entirely  different  from  the  rest  of  her  sex  as  Ghisleri  was 
fond  of  believing.  Her  education  had  not  been  that  of 
young  Roman  girls,  it  is  true,  and  the  singular  circum 
stances  of  her  short  married  life  had  not  developed  her 
character  in  the  same  direction  as  theirs  generally  was  by 
matrimony.  But  in  real  womanliness  she  was  as  much 
a  woman  as  any  of  them,  liable  to  the  same  influences 
and  to  the  same  class  of  enthusiasms.  Because  she  had 
loved  and  married  Herbert  Arden,  it  did  not  follow  that 
she  could  not  and  did  not  admire  all  that  was  brave  and 
generous  and  strong,  independently  of  moral  weakness 
and  faults. 

Arden  himself,  indeed,  though  he  had  excited  her  pity 
by  his  physical  defects,  had  commanded  her  respect  by 
the  manly  courage  he  showed  under  all  his  sufferings. 
She  had  been  able  to  forget  his  deformity  in  the  superior 
gifts  of  intelligence  and  heart  which  had  unquestionably 
been  his,  and,  after  all,  she  had  loved  him  most  because 
she  had  felt  that  but  for  an  accident  he  would  have  been 
pre-eminently  a  manly  man.  Cripple  as  he  was,  she  had 
always  known  that  she  could  rely  on  him,  and  her  instinct 
had  always  told  her  that  he  could  protect  her, 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  237 

But  she  had  never  trusted  G-hisleri.  He  had  the  mis 
fortune  to  show  his  worst  side  to  most  people,  and  he  had 
shown  it  to  her.  She  had  seen  more  than  once  that  he 
was  ready  to  undertake  and  carry  out  almost  anything  for 
his  friend's  sake,  and  she  had  been  honestly  grateful  to 
him  for  all  he  had  done.  But  she  had  not  been  able,  until 
now,  to  shake  off  that  feeling  of  distrust  and  timid  dis 
like  she  had  always  felt  in  his  presence.  She  had,  indeed, 
succeeded  tolerably  well  in  hiding  it  from  him,  but  it  had 
always  made  her  cold  in  conversation  and  somewhat 
formal  in  manner,  and  he,  being  outwardly  a  rather 
formal  and  cold  man  had,  so  to  say,  put  himself  in  har 
mony  with  her  key.  For  the  first  time  in  their  acquaint 
ance,  and  under  pressure  of  what  he  considered  necessity, 
he  had  suddenly  unbent,  and  had  told  her  the  principal 
story  of  his  life  with  a  frankness  and  simplicity  that  had 
charmed  her.  From  that  hour  she  judged  him  differently. 
After  that  first  visit,  he  went  often  to  see  her,  and  on 
each  occasion  he  felt  drawn  more  closely  to  her  than 
before. 

"  You  are  very  much  changed, "  he  said  to  her  one  day. 
"Do  you  mind  my  saying  it?" 

"  Not  in  the  least, "  Laura  answered,  with  a  smile.  "  But 
in  what  way  am  I  different?  " 

"In  one  great  thing,  I  think.  You  used  to  be  very 
imposingly  calm  with  me.  You  never  seemed  quite  will 
ing  to  speak  freely  about  anything.  Now,  it  is  almost 
always  you  who  make  me  talk  by  making  me  feel  that 
you  will  talk  yourself.  That  is  not  very  clearly  put,  is 
it?  I  do  not  know  whether  you  ever  disliked  me  —  if 
you  did,  you  never  showed  it.  But  I  really  begin  to  think 
that  you  almost  like  me.  Is  there  any  truth  in  that?  " 

"Yes  —  a  great  deal."  She  smiled  again.  "More 
truth  than  you  guess  —  for  I  do  not  mind  saying  it  since 
it  is  all  over.  I  did  not  like  you,  and  I  used  to  try  and 
hide  it.  But  I  like  you  now,  and  I  am  quite  willing  that 
you  should  know  it." 

"That  is  good  of  you  —  good  as  everything  you  do  is. 


238  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

But  I  would  really  like  to  know  why  you  have  changed 
your  mind.  May  I?" 

"  Because  I  have  found  out  that  you  are  not  what  I  took 
you  for." 

"Most  discoveries  of  that  kind  are  disappointments," 
observed  Ghisleri,  with  a  dry  laugh. 

"  That  is  just  the  sort  of  remark  I  used  to  dislike  you 
for,"  said  Laura.  "The  world  is  not  all  bad,  and  you 
know  it.  Yet  out  of  ten  observations  you  make,  nine, 
at  least,  would  lead  one  to  believe  that  you  think  it  is." 

"Excepting  yourself,  we  are  all  as  bad  as  we  can  be. 
What  is  the  use  of  denying  it?  " 

"  We  are  not  all  bad,  and  I  do  not  choose  to  be  made 
an  exception  of.  I  am  just  like  other  people,  or  I  should 
be  if  I  were  placed  as  they  are.  I  not  only  am  sure  that 
you  are  not  a  bad  man,  but  I  am  quite  convinced  that  in 
some  ways  you  are  a  very  good  one." 

"  What  an  odd  mistake!  " 

"Why  do  you  persistently  try  to  make  yourself  out 
worse  than  you  are,  and  to  show  your  worst  side  to  the 
world?" 

"I  suppose  that  is  the  side  most  apparent  to  myself," 
answered  Ghisleri.  "I  cannot  help  seeing  it." 

"  Because  you  are  not  Launcelot,  you  take  yourself  for 
Caesar  Borgia  —  " 

"  That  would  be  flattering  myself  too  much.  Borgia 
was  by  far  the  more  intelligent  of  the  two.  Say  Thersites. " 

"I  know  nothing  about  Thersites." 

"  Then  say  Judas.  There  seems  to  be  very  little  dif 
ference  of  opinion  as  to  that  personage's  moral  obliquity, " 
Ghisleri  laughed. 

"Very  well,"  said  Laura,  gravely.  "I  suppose  you 
have  no  doubt,  then,  that  Judas  would  have  acted  as  you 
did  in  your  affair  with  Don  Gianforte.  He  would,  of 
course,  have  submitted  to  insult  rather  than  break  a  prom 
ise,  and  would  have  allowed  —  " 

"  Will  you  please  stop,  Lady  Herbert?  "  Ghisleri  fixed 
his  blue  eyes  on  her. 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  239 

"No,  I  will  not,"  answered  Laura,  with  decision. 
"What  I  like  about  you  is  precisely  what  you  try  the 
most  to  hide,  and  I  mean  to  see  it  and  to  make  you  see 
it,  if  possible.  You  would  be  much  happier  if  you  could. 
I  suppose  that  if  the  majority  of  people  could  hear  us 
talking  now,  they  would  think  our  conversation  utterly 
absurd.  They  would  say  that  you  were  posing,  in  order 
to  make  yourself  interesting,  and  that  I  was  enough 
attracted  by  you  to  be  deceived  by  the  comedy.  Is  not 
that  the  way  the  world  would  look  at  it?  " 

"Probably,"  assented  Ghisleri.  "Perhaps  I  am  really 
posing.  I  do  not  pretend  to  know." 

"  I  am  willing  to  believe  that  you  are  not,  if  you  will 
let  me,  and  I  would  much  rather.  In  the  first  place,  you 
are,  at  all  events,  not  any  worse  than  most  men  one 
knows.  That  is  evident  enough  from  your  actions. 
Secondly,  —  you  see  I  am  arguing  the  case  like  a  lawyer, 
—  if  you-  had  not  a  high  ideal  of  what  you  wish  to  be, 
you  would  not  have  such  a  poor  opinion  of  what  you  are. 
Is  that  clear?" 

"  If  there  were  no  right,  there  could  not  possibly  be 
any  wrong.  But  black  would  be  black,  even  if  you  could 
only  compare  it  with  blue,  green,  and  yellow,  instead  of 
with  white." 

"I  am  not  talking  of  chromolithographs,"  said  Laura. 
"  What  I  say  is  simple  enough.  If  you  did  not  wish  to 
be  good,  and  know  what  good  means,  and  if  you  had  not 
a  certain  amount  of  goodness  in  you,  you  would  not  think 
yourself  so  bad.  And  you  are  unhappy,  as  you  have  told 
me  before  now,  because  you  think  all  your  motives  are 
insincere,  or  vain,  or  defective  in  some  way.  I  suppose 
you  wish  to  be  happy,  and  if  you  do,  you  must  learn  to 
find  some  satisfaction  in  having  done  your  best.  I  have 
said  precisely  what  I  mean,  and  you  must  not  pretend  to 
misunderstand  me." 

"  Think  yourself  good,  and  you  will  be  happy,"  observed 
Ghisleri.  "That  is  the  modern  form  of  the  proverb." 

"  Of  course  it  is,  and  the  better  reason  you  really  have 


240  PTETRO   GHISLERI. 

for  thinking  yourself  good,  the  more  real  and  lasting  your 
happiness  will  be." 

Ghisleri  laughed  to  himself,  and  at  himself,  as  he  went 
away,  for  being  so  much  impressed  as  he  was  by  what 
Laura  said.  But  he  could  not  deny  that  the  impression 
had  been  made  and  remained  for  some  time  after  he  had 
left  her.  There  was  a  healthy  common-sense  about  her 
mind  which  was  beginning  to  act  upon  the  tortuous  and 
often  morbid  complications  of  his  own.  She  seemed  to 
know  the  straight  paths  and  the  short  cuts  to  simple 
goodness,  and  never  to  have  guessed  at  the  labyrinthine 
ways  by  which  he  seemed  to  himself  to  be  always  trying 
to  escape  from  the  bugbear  sent  to  pursue  him  by  the 
demon  of  self -mistrust.  He  laughed  at  himself,  for  he 
realised  how  utterly  impossible  it  would  always  be  for 
him  to  think  as  she  did,  or  to  look  upon  the  world  as  she 
saw  it.  There  had  been  a  time  when  he  had  thought 
more  plainly,  when  a  woman  had  exerted  a  strong  influ 
ence  over  him,  and  when  a  few  good  things  and  a  few 
bad  ones  had  made  up  the  sum  of  his  life.  But  she  was 
dead,  and  he  had  changed.  Worse  than  that,  he  had 
fallen.  As  he  sat  in  his  room  and  glanced  from  time  to 
time  at  the  only  likeness  he  had  of  Bianca  Corleone,  he 
thought  of  Beatrice's  reproach  to  Dante  in  the  thirty-first 
canto  of  the  "  Purgatory  " : 

"  And  yet,  because  tliou'rt  shamed  of  me  in  all 
Thy  sin,  and  that  in  later  days  to  come 
Thou  mayst  be  brave,  hearing  the  Siren's  voice 
Sow  deep  the  seed  of  tears  and  hear  me  speak. 
So  shalt  thou  know  how  thou  should' st  have  been  moved 
By  my  dead  body  in  ways  opposite. 
Nor  art  nor  nature  had  the  power  to  tempt  thee 
With  such  delight  as  that  fair  body  could 
In  which  I  lived  —  which  now  is  scattered  earth  — 
And  if  the  highest  joy  was  lost  to  thee 
By  my  young  death,  what  mortal  living  thing 
Should  have  had  strength  to  drag  thee  down  with  it  ?  " 

As  he  repeated  the  last  words  he  started  for  they 
reminded  him  with  painful  force  of  Gianforte  Campo- 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  241 

donieo's  insulting  speech,  and  he  detested  himself  for 
even  allowing  the  thought  to  cross  his  mind  —  for  allow 
ing  himself  to  repeat  Beatrice's  words  up  to  that  point. 
It  was  he  who  had  dragged  down  Maddalena  dell'  Armi 
to  his  level,  not  she  whe  had  made  him  sink  to  hers. 
And  yet  Campodonico  had  said  almost  the  same  thing  as 
Beatrice,  and  certainly  without  knowing  it.  In  his  heart 
he  knew  that  Bianca  might  have  reproached  him  so,  but 
then,  deeper  still,  he  knew  that  the  reproach,  from  her 
lips,  would  have  fallen  on  himself  alone,  and  would  never 
have  been  meant  for  Maddalena. 

Ghisleri  fell  to  thinking  over  his  own  life  and  the  lives 
of  others,  in  one  of  those  black  moods  which  sometimes 
seized  him  and  in  which  he  believed  in  no  one's  motives, 
from  his  own  upward.  In  the  course  of  his  lonely  and 
bitter  meditations,  he  came  across  an  idea  which  at  first 
seemed  wild  and  improbable  enough,  but  which,  little  by 
little,  took  shape  as  he  concentrated  his  attention  upon  it, 
and  at  last  chased  every  other  memory  away.  He  was  not 
naturally  an  over-suspicious  man,  but  Avhen  his  suspi 
cions  were  once  roused  he  was  apt  to  go  far  in  pursuit  of 
the  truth,  if  the  matter  interested  him.  He  rose  and  got 
a  book  from  the  shelves  which  lined  one  side  of  the  wall, 
and  began  to  turn  over  the  pages  rapidly,  until  he  stopped 
at  the  place  he  was  looking  for.  He  read  three  or  four 
pages  very  carefully  twice  over  and  returned  the  volume 
to  its  place.  Then  he  sat  down  to  think,  and  did  not 
move  for  another  quarter  of  an  hour.  At  the  end  of  that 
time  he  called  his  servant,  a  quiet,  hard-working  fellow 
from  the  Abbruzzi,  who  rejoiced  in  the  name  of  Bonifazio. 

"Do  you  happen  to  know,"  he  asked,  "if  there  was 
much  scarlet  fever  in  the  city  last  winter?  I  have  always 
wondered  how  poor  Lord  Herbert  caught  it." 

Bonifazio  had  known  Lord  Herbert  for  years,  just  as 
Donald  had  known  Ghisleri,  for  the  two  friends  had  often 
made  short  journeys  together,  taking  their  servants  with 
them.  The  Italian  thought  a  long  time  before  he  gave  an 
answer. 


242  PIETRO   GHISLEKI. 

"  No,  Signore.  I  do  not  remember  hearing  that  there 
were  many  cases.  But  then,  I  am  not  in  the  way  of 
knowing.  It  may  have  been." 

"You  are  a  very  discreet  man,  Bonifazio,"  said  Ghis- 
leri.  "  Lord  Herbert  fell  ill  on  the  day  after  he  had  dined 
in  Casa  Savelli.  Do  you  think  you  could  find  out  for 
me  whether  any  one  of  the  servants  had  the  scarlet  fever 
at  that  time?" 

"  Perhaps,  signore.  I  will  try.  I  know  Giuseppe,  the 
butler,  who  is  a  very  good  person,  but  who  is  not  fond  of 
talking.  When  there  is  such  an  illness  they  either  send 
the  servants'  to  the  hospital,  in  the  Roman  houses,  or  else 
they  put  them  in  an  attic  and  try  not  to  let  any  one  know. 
For  the  rest,  I  will  do  what  I  can.  You  say  well,  Sig 
nore,  for  it  is  possible  that  the  blessed  soul  of  the  Milord 
caught  the  fever  at  the  dinner  in  Casa  Savelli." 

"  That  is  what  I  think, "  said  Gliisleri.  And  he  thought 
a  good  deal  more  also,  which  he  did  not  communicate  to 
his  man. 

Bonifazio,  as  his  master  said,  was  discreet.  He  was 
also  very  patient  and  very  uncommunicative,  as  the  men 
of  the  Abbruzzi  often  are.  They  make  the  best  servants 
when  they  can  be  got,  for,  in  addition  to  the  good  quali 
ties  most  of  them  possess  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  they 
are  almost  always  physically  very  strong  men,  though 
rarely  above  middle  height,  and  often  extremely  pale. 
Gliisleri  knew  that  so  soon  as  Bonifazio  had  anything  to 
tell,  he  would  tell  it  without  further  question  or  reminder. 

Several  clays  passed,  during  which  Ghisleri,  who  gained 
strength  rapidly,  began  to  resume  his  former  mode  of 
life,  went  to  the  club,  saw  his  friends,  and  made  a  few 
visits.  He  went  more  than  once  to  Maddalena's  house 
and  stayed  some  time  with  her  when  he  found  her  alone. 
Little  by  little  he  fancied  that  her  look  was  changing 
and  growing  more  indifferent.  He  was  glad  of  it.  He 
wished  that  he  might  be  to  her  exactly  what  she  was  to 
him.  That,  indeed,  could  never  be,  but  he  wished  it 
were  possible.  He  knew  that  when  she  ceased  to  love 


PIETflO   GHISLERI.  243 

him  altogether,  she  could  never  feel  friendly  devotion, 
gratitude,  or  respect  for  him,  and  he  felt  all  three  for  her 
in  a  far  greater  degree  than  she  could  imagine.  On  the 
whole,  during  that  time  their  relations  were  peaceable, 
and  altogether  undisturbed  by  the  frequent  differences 
that  had  so  often  nearly  estranged  them  from  one  another 
in  earlier  days.  There  was,  of  course,  an  air  of  constraint 
about  their  meetings,  more  evident  in  Maddalena's  man 
ner  than  in  Ghisleri's,  and  the  latter  hardly  hoped  that 
this  could  ever  quite  wear  off  and  leave  at  last  a  sincere 
and  true  friendship  behind  it.  That  was,  indeed,  the 
best  that  could  be  hoped  for  either  of  them,  and  he  had 
no  right  to  expect  the  best,  nor  anything  approaching 
to  it. 

One  evening  as  he  was  dressing  for  dinner,  Bonifazio 
gave  him  the  news  he  desired.  It  had  not  been  easy  to 
extract  any  communication  on  the  subject  from  old  Giu 
seppe,  the  Savelli's  butler,  but  such  as  he  had  at  last  given 
was  clear,  concise,  and  to  the  point.  There  had  been  a 
case  of  scarlet  fever  in  the  house.  Donna  Adele's  maid 
had  taken  it,  and  was  just  convalescent  at  the  time  when 
the  Ardens  dined  with  Adele  and  her  husband.  The 
woman's  name  was  Lucia,  and  on  falling  ill  she  had  been 
at  once  removed  to  a  distant  room  in  the  upper  part  of 
the  palace.  The  case  had  been  rather  a  severe  one, 
Giuseppe  believed,  and  it  was  only  within  the  last  few 
weeks  that  Lucia  seemed  to  have  regained  her  strength. 
She  was  at  present  at  Gerano  with  her  mistress,  but  had 
written  to  the  wife  of  the  Savelli's  porter  saying  that  she 
had  been  dismissed,  and  was  to  leave  at  the  end  of  the 
month,  and  asking  for  assistance  in  finding  a  new  place. 
Ghisleri  was  satisfied  for  the  present.  It  was  quite  clear 
that  Arden  must  have  caught  the  fever  that  killed  him 
so  suddenly  in  Casa  Savelli.  Whether  Donna  Adele  had 
in  any  way  communicated  the  contagion  was  another 
matter,  and  not  easily  decided.  Her  inexplicable  ner 
vousness,  beginning  about  the  time  that  Arden  died,  might 
be  accounted  for  on  the  ground  that  she  was  aware  of 


244  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

having  been  the  unintentional  cause  of  his  illness,  and 
felt  that  by  a  little  precaution  she  might  have  averted 
the  catastrophe.  The  idea  was  constantly  present  in 
Ghisleri's  mind,  but  it  lacked  detail  and  clearness,  and 
constituted  at  most  a  rather  strong  suspicion.  Of  course 
it  was  quite  possible,  and,  considering  Adele's  character, 
more  than  likely,  that  she  had  never  been  near  the  maid 
during  her  illness.  If  she  had  never  had  the  scarlet  fever 
herself,  it  was  quite  certain.  But  that  was  a  point  easily 
settled,  and  was  a  very  important  one. 

On  the  following  day,  Ghisleri  called  at  the  Palazzo 
Braccio.  The  Princess  received  him,  as  she  always  did, 
without  any  signs  of  satisfaction,  but  without  marked 
coldness.  To  her  he  was  always  "that  wild  Ghisleri," 
and  she  thoroughly  disapproved  of  him,  wishing  that  he 
would  not  visit  her  daughter  so  often.  He  was  quite 
aware  of  the  feeling  she  entertained  towards  him,  and 
was  always  especially  careful  in  his  conversation  with 
her.  In  spite  of  her  long  residence  in  Rome,  as  a  Koman, 
and  among  Romans,  she  had  remained  altogether  English 
in  nature.  Laura,  English  on  both  sides  by  her  birth, 
had  far  less  of  prejudice  than  her  mother,  and  was  alto 
gether  more  of  a  cosmopolitan  in  every  way.  On  the 
present  occasion,  Ghisleri  led  the  conversation  so  as  to 
speak  of  her.  He  began  by  asking  the  Princess  where 
she  herself  meant  to  spend  the  summer,  and  whether  she 
intended  to  be  with  her  daughter. 

"I  hope  to  be  with  her  a  great  part  of  the  time,"  she 
answered.  "  I  do  not  like  to  think  of  her  as  travelling 
about  the  world  alone.  Indeed,  I  do  not  at  all  approve 
of  her  living  without  a  companion,  as  she  insists  upon 
doing.  She  is  far  too  young,  and  people  are  far  too  ready 
to  talk  about  her." 

"She  has  such  wonderful  dignity,"  answered  Ghisleri, 
"that  she  could  do  with  impunity  what  most  women  could 
not  do  at  all.  Besides,  her  mourning  protects  her  for  the 
present,  and  her  child.  She  is  looking  wonderfully  well 
—  do  you  not  think  so?" 


P1ETRO   GHISLERI.  245 

"Yes.  When  one  thinks  of  all  she  has  suffered,  it  is 
amazing.  But  she  was  always  strong." 

"  I  should  suppose  so.  Any  one  else  would  have  caught 
the  scarlet  fever." 

"As  for  that,"  said  the  Princess,  unsuspiciously,  "peo 
ple  rarely  have  it  twice." 

"She  has  had  it,  then." 

"Oh,  yes.  Both  the  girls  had  it  at  the  same  time, 
when  they  were  little  things.  Let  me  see  —  Laura  must 
have  been  six  years  old  then.  They  had  it  rather  badly, 
and  I  remember  being  terribly  anxious  about  them." 

"  I  see, "  answered  Ghisleri,  carelessly.  "  That  accounts 
for  it.  But  to  go  back  to  what  we  were  speaking  of,  I 
wonder  that  Lady  Herbert  does  not  spend  the  summer 
with  you  at  Gerano,  if  you  go  there  as  usual." 

"I  do  not  think  she  will  consent  to  that,"  said  the 
Princess,  rather  coldly.  "  She  says  she  prefers  the  north 
for  the  baby.  It  is  quite  true  that  it  is  often  very  hot  at 
Gerano." 

"  Donna  Adele  was  good  enough  to  asK  me  to  go  out  and 
spend  a  day  or  two  while  she  is  there.  It  must  be  very 
pleasant  just  now,  in  the  spring  weather." 

"Why  do  you  not  go?"  asked  the  Princess,  with  more 
warmth,  for  she  preferred  that  Ghisleri  should  be  where 
he  could  not  see  Laura  every  day,  as  she  believed  he  now 
did.  "  You  would  be  doing  them  both  a  kindness.  Poor 
Adele  was  obliged  to  go  to  the  country  against  her  will 
—  she  is  in  such  a  terribly  nervous  state.  I  really  do 
not  know  what  to  make  of  it." 

"What  news  have  you  of  her?"  inquired  Ghisleri,  in 
SL  tone  of  polite  solicitude.  "Is  she  at  all  better?" 

"She  was  better  after  the  first  few  days.  Then  it 
appears  that  she  had  a  fright  —  I  do  not  quite  understand 
how  it  was  from  what  Francesco  wrote  to  my  husband  — 
but  it  seems  to  have  been  one  of  those  odd  accidents  — 
optical  illusions,  I  suppose  —  which  sometimes  terrify 
people." 

"  How  very  unfortunate !  What  did  she  fancy  she  saw?  " 


246  PIETBO   GHISLERI. 

"  It  was  absurd,  of  course !  "  answered  the  Princess,  who 
had  no  special  reason  for  being  reticent  on  the  subject. 
"  It  seems  that  there  was  a  blue  cloak  of  hers  hanging 
somewhere  in  her  dressing-room,  —  at  a  window,  I  be 
lieve,  —  and  she  went  in  suddenly  very  early  in  the  morn 
ing  before  it  was  quite  broad  daylight,  and  took  the  cloak 
for  a  man.  In  fact  she  thought  it  was  poor  dear  Arden. 
You  know  he  always  used  to  wear  blue  serge  clothes. 
Francesco  saw  it  himself  afterwards  and  says  that  it  was 
extraordinarily  like.  But  I  cannot  understand  how  any 
one  in  their  senses  could  be  deceived  in  that  way.  Adele 
is  dreadfully  overwrought  and  imaginative.  She  has 
danced  too  much  this  winter,  I  suppose." 

When  Ghisleri  went  away  he  was  almost  quite  per 
suaded  that  Adele  was  conscious  of  having  communicated 
the  fever  to  Arden.  Of  course,  it  might  all  be  mere 
coincidence,  but  to  him  the  evidence  seemed  strong.  He 
wrote  a  note  to  Adele,  asking  whether  he  might  avail 
himself  of  her  invitation,  and  spend  a  day  at  Gerano. 
Her  answer  came  by  return  of  post,  begging  him  to  come 
at  once,  and  to  stay  as  long  as  possible.  The  hand 
writing  was  so  illegible  that  he  had  some  difficulty  in 
reading  it.  To  judge  from  that,  at  least,  Adele  was  no 
better. 

Before  leaving  Kome,  he  thought  it  best  to  inform 
Laura  of  his  intended  visit.  He  had  never  spoken  of  her 
step-sister  in  a  way  to  make  her  suppose  that  he  disliked 
her,  but  Laura  knew  very  well  what  part  he  had  played 
at  the  time  when  Adele  was  spreading  slanderous  reports, 
for  her  mother  had  repeated  the  story  precisely  as  the 
Prince  had  told  it  to  her.  Ghisleri,  of  course,  was  not 
aware  of  this,  for  Arden  had  not  mentioned  the  matter 
to  him,  unless  his  reference  to  the  enemies  he  and  Laura 
had  in  Kome,  during  the  last  conversation  he  had  with 
his  friend,  could  be  taken  as  implying  that  Ghisleri  knew 
as  much  as  he  himself.  But  in  any  case,  he  was  sure  that 
Laura  would  be  surprised  at  his  going  to  Gerano,  even  for 
a  day,  and  it  was  better  to  warn  her  beforehand,  and  if 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  247 

possible  give  her  some  reasonable  explanation  of  his 
conduct.  He  chose  to  refer  his  visit  at  once  to  motives 
of  curiosity,  together  with  a  natural  desire  to  breathe  the 
purer  air  of  the  country,  now  that  he  was  able  to  make 
the  short  journey  without  fatigue  or  danger. 

"I  have  never  been  to  Gerano,"  he  added.  "It  is  said 
to  be  a  wonderful  place  —  one  of  the  finest  mediaeval 
castles  in  this  part  of  the  world.  I  really  wish  to  see  it 
—  they  say  the  air  is  good  —  and  since  Donna  Adele  is 
so  kind  as  to  ask  me,  I  shall  go." 

"  You  would  see  it  better  if  you  went  when  my  mother 
and  step-father  are  there.  He  would  show  you  every 
thing  and  give  you  all  sorts  of  historical  details  which 
Adele  has  forgotten  and  which  Francesco  never  knew." 

"No  doubt,  but  there  is  one  objection,"  answered  Ghis- 
leri.  "  They  have  never  asked  me.  I  am  not  a  favourite 
with  the  Princess.  I  am  sure  you  know  that." 

"  She  thinks  you  are  very  wild, "  said  Laura,  with  a 
smile.  "She  disapproves  of  you  on  moral  grounds  — 
not  at  all  in  the  way  I  used  to  —  and  still  do,  sometimes," 
she  added,  incautiously. 

"Still?" 

"  Oh,  it  is  very  foolish !  Do  not  talk  about  it.  When 
are  you  going  out?" 

Laura  had  undeniably  felt  a  sudden  return  of  her  old 
distrust  in  him,  when  she  had  heard  of  the  visit.  It  was 
natural  enough  that  she  should,  considering  what  she 
knew.  She  suspected  some  new  and  tortuous  develop 
ment  of  his  character,  and  would  have  instinctively  drawn 
back  from  the  intimacy  she  felt  was  growing  up  between 
him  and  herself,  had  she  not  by  experience  found  out  that 
she  might  be  quite  wrong  about  him  after  all.  She  tried, 
at  the  present  juncture,  to  shake  off  the  sensation  which 
was  now  far  more  distasteful  to  her  than  it  had  formerly 
been,  in  proportion  as  she  had  fancied  that  she  under 
stood  him  better.  But  she  could  not  altogether  succeed. 
It  was  too  strange,  in  her  opinion,  that  he  should  will 
ingly  be  Adele 's  guest,  and  put  himself  under  even  a 


248  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

slight  obligation  to  her.  It  showed,  she  thought,  how 
individual  views  could  differ  in  regard  to  friendship.  She 
was  even  rather  surprised  to  find  that  she  was  asking  her 
self  whether,  if  Gianforte  and  Christina  Campodonico 
possessed  a  habitable  castle  and  invited  her  to  stop  with 
them,  she  would  accept,  considering  that  Gianforte  had 
almost  killed  her  husband's  best  friend.  She  unhesitat 
ingly  decided  that  she  would  not,  and  resented  Ghisleri's 
willingness  to  receive  hospitality  from  one  who,  as  he 
well  knew,  had  foully  slandered  both  Arden  and  herself. 
Her  doubts  were  certainly  justifiable  to  a  certain  extent. 
But  there  was  no  immediate  probability  that  they  would 
be  cleared  away  for  the  present.  Ghisleri  understood  her 
perfectly,  and  wondered  whether  he  were  not  risking  too 
much  in  endangering  a  friendship  so  precious  to  him  for 
the  sake  of  following  out  a  suspicion  which  might,  in  the 
end,  prove  to  have  been  altogether  without  foundation. 
On  the  other  hand,  his  natural  obstinacy  of  purpose  when 
once  called  into  play  was  such  as  not  to  leave  the  smallest 
hesitation  in  his  mind  between  doing  what  he  had  deter 
mined  to  do7  or  not  doing  it,  when  he  had  once  made  up 
his  mind,  irrespective  of  consequences.  Having  lost 
sight  of  the  virtue  of  constancy,  he  clung  to  a  vicious 
obstinacy  as  a  substitute. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

WHEX  Adele  had  read  Padre  Bonaventura's  letter  twice 
over  and  had  realised  its  meaning,  she  behaved  like  a 
person  stunned  by  an  actual  blow.  She  sank  into  the 
nearest  chair,  utterly  overcome.  She  had  barely  the 
presence  of  mind  to  tear  up  the  sheet  of  paper  into 
minute  shreds,  which  she  gathered  all  in  one  hand,  until 
she  could  find  strength  to  scatter  them  out  of  the  win 
dow.  The  position  was  a  terrible  one  indeed,  and  for  a 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  249 

long  time  she  was  unable  to  think  connectedly  about  it, 
or  of  anything  else.  But  for  the  two  nights  of  sound 
sleep  she  had  got  by  taking  the  chloral,  she  must  inevi 
tably  have  broken  down.  As  it  was,  her  strong  constitu 
tion  had  asserted  itself  so  soon  as  she  had  been  able  to 
rest,  and  she  was  better  able  to  meet  this  new  and  real 
trouble  than  she  had  been  to  face  the  imaginary  horror 
of  Herbert  Arden's  presence  in  her  dressing-room.  But 
even  so,  half  an  hour  elapsed  before  she  was  able  to  rise 
from  her  seat.  She  tossed  the  scraps  of  paper  out  of  the 
window  and  watched  them  as  the  wind  chased  them  in  all 
directions,  upwards  and  downwards,  upon  the  castle  wall. 
Then,  all  at  once,  she  began  to  think,  and  her  brain  seemed 
to  act  with  an  accuracy  and  directness  it  had  never  had 
before. 

Either  the  letter  had  been  opened  in  the  house  or  at  the 
post-office.     It  could  not  have  been  opened  in  Rome,  or 
at  least,  the  probabilities  were  enormously  against  sueh 
an  hypothesis.     It  was  scarcely  more  like  that  the  man 
at  the  Gerano  post-office  should  have  ventured  to  tamper 
with  a  sealed  envelope  coming  from  the  castle,  and  for 
which  he  had  given  a  receipt  before  taking  charge  of  it. 
He  could  not  have  the  smallest  interest  in  reading  Donna 
Adele's  correspondence,  and  he  had  everything  to  lose  if 
he  were  caught.     He  would  certainly  not  have  supposed 
that  she  or  her  husband,  having  but  lately  left  the  city, 
were  sending  back  a  sum  of  money  in  notes  large  enough 
to  make  it  worth  his  while  to  incur  such  a  risk.     In  other 
words,  the  theft  had  been  committed  in  the  house,  and  no 
one  but  Lucia  could  have  been  the  thief.     Lucia  had  been 
summarily  dismissed ;  Lucia  was  the  only  servant  in  the 
establishment   who   had   serious   cause   for   discontent; 
Lucia  had  guessed  from  the  address  that  the  letter  con 
tained  something  at  least  of  the  nature  of  a  confession, 
and  had  resolved  to  hold  her  mistress   in   her  power. 
Moreover,  it  was  possible  —  barely  possible  —  that  Lucia 
knew  something  else.     In  any  case,  she  had  read  every 
word  Adele  had  written  with  her  own  hand,  and  Adele 


250  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

knew  very  well  why  the  woman  had  not  returned  the 
sheets  to  the  envelope  after  mastering  their  contents. 
She  was  utterly,  hopelessly,  and  entirely  in  Lucia's 
power.  The  maid  would  go  from  her  to  a  new  situation, 
and  wherever  she  might  be  would  always  be  able  to  con 
trol  Donna  Adele 's  life  by  merely  threatening  to  betray 
what  she  knew  to  the  person  or  persons  concerned. 

Adele  felt  that  her  courage  was  almost  failing  her  in 
this  extremity,  at  a  time  when  she  needed  more  than  she 
had  ever  possessed.  And  yet  it  was  necessary  to  act 
promptly,  for  the  maid  might  even  now  be  engaging  her 
self  with  some  one  else.  Come  what  might,  she  must 
never  leave  Casa  Savelli,  if  it  cost  Adele  all  the  money 
she  could  beg  of  her  husband  or  borrow  of  her  father  to 
keep  the  woman  with  her.  First  of  all,  however,  she 
must  regain  some  sort  of  composure,  lest  Lucia  should 
suspect  that  the  post  had  brought  her  news  of  the  loss  of 
the  document.  She  looked  at  herself  in  the  glass  and 
scrutinised  every  feature  attentively.  She  was  very  pale, 
but  otherwise  was  looking  better  than  two  days  earlier. 
Any  kind  of  stimulant,  as  she  knew,  sent  the  blood  to 
her  face  in  a  few  minutes,  and  she  saw  that  what  she 
needed  was  a  little  colour.  A  teaspoonful  of  Benedictine 
cordial,  of  which  she  had  a  small  flask  in  her  dressing- 
case,  was  enough  to  produce  the  desired  effect.  The 
doctor  had  formerly  recommended  her  to  take  it  before 
going  to  sleep,  but  she  did  not  like  such  things,  and  the 
flask  was  almost  full.  She  saw  in  the  mirror  that  the 
result  was  perfectly  satisfactory,  and  when  she  at  last  met 
her  husband  he  remarked  that  her  appearance  was  very 
much  improved. 

"  I  feel  so  much  better !  "  she  exclaimed,  knowing  that 
she  was  speaking  the  first  words  of  a  comedy  which  would 
in  all  probability  have  to  be  played  during  the  rest  of 
her  life.  "  I  always  said  that  if  they  would  only  give 
me  something  to  make  me  sleep  I  should  get  well  at 
once." 

She  walked  again  on  that  day,  and  by  an  almost  super- 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  251 

human  effort  kept  up  appearances  until  bedtime,  even 
succeeding  in  eating  a  moderately  abundant  dinner.  That 
night  she  told  Lucia  that,  on  the  whole,  she  would  prefer 
to  keep  her,  that  she  had  always  been  more  than  satisfied 
with  her  services,  and  that  if  she  had  suddenly  felt  an 
aversion  to  her,  it  was  the  result  of  the  extreme  nervous 
ness  she  had  suffered  of  late.  Now  that  she  could  sleep, 
she  realised  how  unkind  she  had  been.  Lucia  humbly 
thanked  her,  and  said  that  she  hoped  to  live  and  die  in 
the  service  of  the  most  excellent  Casa  Savelli.  Thereupon 
Adele  thanked  her  too,  said  very  sweetly  that  she  was  a 
good  girl  and  would  some  day  be  rewarded  by  finding  a 
good  husband,  and  ended  by  giving  her  five  francs.  She 
reflected  that  to  give  her  more  might  look  like  the  begin 
ning  of  a  course  of  bribery,  and  that  to  give  nothing 
might  be  construed  as  proceeding  from  the  fear  of  seem 
ing  to  bribe. 

The  second  day  could  not  be  harder  than  the  first,  she 
said  to  herself,  as  she  swallowed  her  chloral  and  laid  her 
head  upon  the  pillow,  to  be  read  to  sleep  by  the  nurse. 
She  slept,  indeed,  that  night,  but  not  so  well  as  before, 
and  she  awoke  twice,  each  time  with  a  start,  and  with  the 
impression  that  Lucia  was  reciting  the  contents  of  the 
lost  letter  to  Laura  Arden  and  a  whole  roomful  of 
the  latter 's  friends. 

Under  the  circurp  stances,  she  behaved  with  a  courage 
and  determination  admirable  in  themselves.  Few  women 
could  have  borne  the  constant  strain  upon  the  faculties 
at  all,  still  fewer  after  such  illness  as  she  had  suffered. 
But  she  was  really  very  strong,  though  everything  which 
affected  her  feelings  and  thoughts  reacted  upon,  her  physi 
cal  nature  as  such  things  never  can  in  less  nervously 
organised  constitutions.  She  bore  the  excruciating  anxi 
ety  about  the  lost  confession  better  than  the  shadowy  fear 
of  the  supernatural  which  still  haunted  her  in  the  hours 
of  the  night.  On  the  third  day  she  begged  her  husband 
to  increase  the  dose  of  chloral  by  a  very  small  quantity, 
saying  that  if  only  she  could  sleep  well  for  a  whole  week 


252 


PIETRO    GHISLERI. 


she  would  then  be  so  much  better  as  to  be  able  to  give  it 
up  altogether.  Savelli  hesitated,  and  at  last  consented. 
Since  she  had  seemed  so  much  more  quiet  he  dreaded  a 
return  of  her  former  state,  for  he  was  a  man  who  loved 
his  ease  and  hated  everything  which  disturbed  it. 

The  doctor  had  particularly  cautioned  him  to  keep  the 
chloral  put  away  in  a  safe  place,  warning  Francesco  that 
the  majority  of  persons  who  took  it  soon  began  to  feel  a 
craving  for  it  in  larger  quantities,  which  must  be  checked 
to  avoid  the  risk  of  considerable  damage  to  the  health  in 
the  event  of  its  becoming  a  habit.  It  was,  after  all,  only 
a  palliative,  he  said,  and  could  never  be  expected  to  work 
a  cure  on  the  nerves  except  as  an  indirect  means  to  a  good 
result.  Francesco  kept  the  bottle  in  his  dressing-bag, 
which  remained  in  his  own  room  and  was  fitted  with  a 
patent  lock.  He  yielded  to  Adele's  request  on  the  first 
occasion,  and  she  went  with  him  as  he  took  the  glass  back 
to  strengthen  the  dose.  "  Why  do  you  keep  it  locked  up?  " 
she  said.  "  Do  you  suppose  I  would  go  and  take  it  with 
out  consulting  you?  " 

"The  doctor  told  me  to  be  careful  of  it,"  he  answered. 
"The  servants  might  try  a  dose  of  it  out  of  curiosity." 
He  took  what  he  considered  necessary  and  locked  the 
bag  again,  returning  the  key  to  his  pocket. 

Two  or  three  days  passed  in  this  way.  Adele  began  to 
feel  that  she  longed  for  the  night  and  the  soothing  influ 
ence  of  the  chloral,  as  she  had  formerly  longed  for  day 
light  to  end  the  misery  of  the  dark  hours.  The  days 
were  now  made  almost  intolerable  for  her  by  the  certainty 
that  her  maid  knew  her  secret,  and  by  the  necessity  for 
treating  the  woman  with  consideration.  Yet  she  could 
do  nothing,  and  she  knew  that  she  never  could  do  any 
thing  to  lessen  her  own  anxiety,  as  long  as  she  lived. 
She  was  much-  alone,  too,  during  the  day.  She  walked 
or  drove  with  her  husband  during  two  or  three  hours  in 
the  afternoon,  but  the  rest  of  the  time  hung  idly  on  her 
hands.  It  is  true  that  his  society  was  not  very  congenial, 
and  under  ordinary  conditions  she  would  rather  have  been 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  253 

left  alone  than  have  been  obliged  to  talk  with  him.  At 
present,  however,  she  thought  less  when  she  was  with 
him,  and  that  was  a  gain  not  to  be  despised.  She  had 
quite  forgotten  that  she  had  asked  Ghisleri  to  come  out 
and  spend  a  day  or  two,  when  his  note  came,  reminding 
her  of  the  invitation,  and  asking  if  he  still  might  accept 
it.  Francesco  liked  him,  as  most  men  did,  and  was  glad 
that  any  one  should  appear  to  vary  the  monotony  of  the 
dull  country  life  with  a  little  city  talk.  He  bade  her 
write  to  Pietro  to  come  and  stay  as  long  as  he  pleased, 
if  she  herself  cared  to  have  him.  She  concealed  her  satis 
faction  well  enough  to  make  Francesco  suppose  that  she 
wished  the  guest  to  come  for  his  sake  rather  than  her  own. 

Ghisleri  started  early,  taking  his  servant  with  him,  and 
reached  Gerano  in  time  for  the  midday  breakfast.  Fran 
cesco  Savelli  received  him  with  considerable  enthusiasm, 
and  Adele's  habitually  rather  forced  smile  became  more 
natural.  Both  felt  in  different  ways  that  the  presence  of 
a  third  person  was  a  relief,  and  would  have  been  delighted 
to  receive  a  far  less  agreeable  man  than  their  present 
guest.  They  overwhelmed  him  with  questions  about 
Rome  and  their  friends. 

"  Of  course  you  have  seen  everybody  and  heard  every 
thing,  now  that  you  are  so  much  better,"  said  Adele,  as 
they  sat  down  to  breakfast  in  the  vaulted  dining-room. 
"  You  must  tell  us  everything  you  know.  We  are  buried 
alive  out  here,  and  only  know  a  little  of  what  happens 
through  the  papers.  How  are  they  all?  Have  you  seen 
Laura  again,  and  how  is  the  baby?  My  step-mother 
writes  that  she  is  going  to  spend  the  summer  with  them 
in  some  place  or  places  unknown.  I  never  thought  of 
her  as  a  grandmother  when  my  own  children  were  born 
—  of  course  she  is  not  my  mother,  but  it  used  to  seem 
just  the  same.  What  is  Bompierre  doing?  And  Maria 
Boccapaduli?  I  am  dying  to  hear  all  about  it." 

Ghisleri  laughed  at  the  multitude  of  questions  which 
followed  each  other  almost  without  a  breathing-space 
between  them. 


254  PIETRO   GHISLEEI. 

"  Donna  Maria  would  have  sent  you  her  love  if  she  had 
known  that  I  was  coming  to  Gerano,"  he  answered.  "  As 
for  Bompierre,  he  is  an  inscrutable  mixture  of  devotion 
and  fickleness.  He  attaches  himself  to  the  new  without 
detaching  himself  from  the  old.  He  worships  both  the 
earthly  and  the  Olympian  Venus.  He  is  a  good  fellow, 
little  Bompierre,  and  I  like  him,  but  it  is  impossible  for 
any  man  to  adore  women  at  the  rate  of  six  at  a  time.  I 
begin  to  think  that  he  must  be  a  very  deep  character." 

"That  is  the  last  thing  I  should  say  of  him,"  observed 
Savelli,  who  was  deficient  in  the  sense  of  humour. 

"How  literal  you  are,  Francesco,"  laughed  his  wife. 
"  And  yourself,  Ghisleri  —  tell  us  about  yourself.  Are 
you  quite  well  again?  You  still  look  dreadfully  thin, 
but  you  look  better  than  when  I  saw  you  last.  What 
does  your  doctor  say?" 

"  He  says  that  if  I  do  not  happen  to  catch  cold,  or  have 
a  choking  fit,  or  a  cough,  or  any  of  fifty  things  he  names, 
and  if  I  do  not  chance  to  get  shot  in  the  same  place  again, 
in  the  course  of  a  year  or  two  I  may  be  as  good  a  man  as 
ever.  It  appears  that  I  have  a  good  constitution.  I  always 
supposed  so,  because  I  never  had  anything  the  matter  with 
me,  so  far  as  I  knew." 

"  No  one  will  ever  forgive  Gianf orte !  "  exclaimed 
Adele.  "  If  you  had  died,  he  would  have  had  to  go  away 
for  ever.  Everybody  says  he  was  utterly  in  the  wrong." 

"The  matter  is  settled,"  said  Ghisleri,  "and  I  do  not 
think  either  of  us  need  have  anything  to  say  about  the 
other's  conduct  in  the  affair.  I  suppose  you  have  heard 
that  the  ministry  has  fallen,"  he  continued,  turning  to 
Savelli.  "  Yesterday  afternoon  —  the  old  story,  of  course 
—  finance." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake  do  not  begin  to  talk  politics  at  this 
hour,"  protested  Adele.  "To-night,  when  I  am  asleep, 
you  can  smoke  all  the  cigars  in  the  house,  and  reconsti 
tute  a  dozen  ministries  if  you  like.  I  want  to  hear  all 
about  my  friends.  You  have  not  told  me  half  enough 
yet." 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  255 

"Where  shall  I  begin?  Ah,  by  the  bye,  there  is  an 
engagement,  I  hear.  I  have  not  left  cards  because  it  is 
not  official.  Pietrasanta  and  Donna  Guendalina  Frangi- 
pani  —  rather  an  odd  match,  is  it  not?" 

"Pietrasanta!  "  exclaimed  Adele.  "Who  would  have 
thought  that!  And  Guendalina,  of  all  people!  But 
they  will  starve,  my  dear  Ghisleri;  they  will  positively 
not  have  twenty  thousand  francs  a  year  between  them." 

"No,"  said  Savelli,  "you  are  quite  right,  my  dear  — 
twelve  —  seventeen  —  eighteen  thousand  five  hundred, 
almost  exactly." 

Savelli  was  intimately  acquainted  with  the  affairs  of 
his  friends,  and  both  parties  were  related  to  him  in  the 
present  case.  He  prided  himself  upon  his  extreme  exact 
ness  about  all  questions  of  money. 

So  they  talked  and  gossiped  throughout  the  meal. 
Ghisleri  knew  just  what  sort  of  news  most  amused  his 
hostess,  and  as  usual  he  succeeded  in  telling  her  the  truth 
about  things  and  people  without  saying  anything  spiteful 
of  any  one.  He  had  resolved,  too,  that  he  would  make 
himself  especially  agreeable  to  the  couple  in  their  volun 
tary  exile.  He  had  come  with  a  set  purpose,  and  he  meant 
to  execute  it  if  possible.  As  he  was  evidently  not  yet 
strong,  Savelli  proposed  that  they  should  drive  instead 
of  walking.  Ghisleri  acceded  readily,  though  he  would 
have  preferred  to  stay  at  home  after  having  travelled 
nearly  thirty  miles  in  a  jolting  carriage  during  the  morn 
ing.  The  sensation  of  physical  fatigue  which  he  con 
stantly  experienced  since  he  had  been  wounded  was  new 
to  him  and  not  at  all  pleasant. 

Nothing  of  any  importance  occurred  during  the  after 
noon.  The  conversation  continued  in  much  the  same 
way  as  it  had  begun  at  breakfast,  interspersed  with 
remarks  about  agriculture  and  the  probabilities  of  crops. 
Savelli  understood  the  financial  side  of  farming  better 
than  Ghisleri,  but  the  latter  had  a  much  more  practical 
acquaintance  with  the  capabilities  of  different  sorts  of 
land. 


256  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

After  they  had  returned  to  the  castle,  Francesco  left 
Ghisleri  with  his  wife  in  the  drawing-room,  and  went  off 
to  his  own  quarters  to  talk  with  the  steward  of  the  estate. 
Tea  was  brought,  but  Pietro  noticed  that  Adele  did  not 
take  any. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  afraid  that  it  would  keep  you  awake 
at  night,"  he  remarked.  "How  is  your  insomnia?  Do 
you  sleep  at  all?" 

"I  am  getting  quite  well  again,"  Adele  answered. 
"  You  know  I  always  told  you  that  I  needed  something 
really  strong  to  make  me  sleep.  The  doctor  has  given 
me  chloral,  and  I  never  wake  up  before  eight  or  nine 
o'clock.  It  is  a  wonderful  medicine." 

"Insomnia  is  one  of  the  most  unaccountable  things," 
said  Ghisleri,  in  a  meditative  tone.  "  I  knew  a  man  in 
Constantinople  who  told  me  that  at  one  time  he  never 
slept  at  all.  For  three  months  he  literally  could  not  lose 
consciousness  for  a  moment.  I  believe  he  suffered  hor 
ribly.  But  then,  he  had  something  on  his  mind  at  the 
time  which  accounted  for  it  to  a  certain  extent." 

"I  suppose  he  had  lost  money  or  something  of  that 
kind,"  conjectured  Adele,  stirring  two  lumps  of  sugar  in 
a  glass  of  water. 

"  No,  it  was  much  worse  than  that.  He  had  acciden 
tally  killed  his  most  intimate  friend  on  a  shooting  expe 
dition  in  the  Belgrad  forest." 

Ghisleri  heard  the  spoon  rattle  sharply  against  the 
glass,  as  Adele's  hand  shook,  and  he  saw  that  she  bent 
down  her  head  quickly,  pretending  to  watch  the  lumps  of 
sugar  as  they  slowly  dissolved. 

"  How  terrible !  "  she  exclaimed,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Ghisleri,  in  the  same  indifferent  tone. 
"  But  if  you  will  believe  it,  he  had  the  courage  to  refuse 
chloral,  or  any  sort  of  sleeping-draught,  though  he  often 
sat  up  reading  all  night.  He  had  been  told,  you  see,  that 
the  habit  of  such  things  was  much  more  dangerous  than 
insomnia  itself,  and  he  was  ultimately  cured  by  taking  a 
great  deal  of  exercise.  He  had  an  extraordinary  force 


PIETRO  GHISLEKI.  257 

of  will.  I  believe  he  has  never  felt  any  bad  effect  from 
what  he  endured.  You  know  one  can  get  used  to  any 
thing.  Look  at  the  people  who  starve  in  public  for  forty 
days  and  do  not  die." 

"  We  shall  see  Pietrasanta  and  his  wife  doing  that  for 
the  next  forty  years, "  said  Adele,  with  a  tolerably  natural 
laugh.  "  They  ought  to  go  into  training  as  soon  as  pos 
sible  if  they  mean  to  be  happy.  They  say  nothing  spoils 
the  temper  like  hunger.  Were  you  ever  near  being 
starved  to  death  on  any  of  your  travels,  Ghisleri?" 

"No;  I  never  got  further  than  being  obliged  to  live  on 
nothing  but  beans  and  bad  water  for  nine  days.  That 
was  quite  far  enough,  though.  I  got  thin,  and  I  have 
never  eaten  beans  since." 

"  I  do  not  wonder.  Fancy  eating  beans  for  nearly  a 
fortnight.  I  should  have  died.  And  where  was  it?  Were 
you  imprisoned  for  a  spy  in  South  America?  One  never 
knows  what  may  or  may  not  have  happened  to  you  —  you 
are  such  an  unaccountable  man !  " 

"That  never  happened  to  me.  It  was  at  sea.  I  took 
it  into  my  head  to  go  to  Sardinia  in  a  small  vessel  that 
was  sailing  from  Amalfi  with  a  cargo  of  beans  to  bring 
back  Sardinian  wine.  We  were  becalmed,  and  got  short 
of  provisions,  so  that  we  fell  back  on  the  beans.  They 
kept  us  alive,  but  I  would  rather  not  try  it  again." 

"What  endless  adventures  you  have  had!  How  tame 
this  society  life  of  ours  must  seem  to  you  after  what  you 
have  been  accustomed  to!  How  can  you  endure  it?" 

"  It  is  never  very  hard  to  put  up  with  what  one  likes, " 
answered  Ghisleri,  "nor  even  to  endure  what  one  dislikes 
for  the  sake  of  somebody  to  whom  one  is  attached." 

"  If  any  one  else  said  that,  it  would  sound  like  a  plati 
tude.  But  with  you,  it  is  quite  different.  One  feels 
that  you  mean  all  you  say." 

Adele  was  evidently  determined  to  be  complimentary, 
and  even  more  than  complimentary,  to-day.  She  was 
never  cold  or  at  all  unfriendly  with  Ghisleri,  whom  she 
liked  and  admired,  and  whom  she  aiways  hoped  to  see 


258  PIETRO   GHISLEEI. 

ultimately  established  as  a  permanent  member  of  her 
own  immediate  circle,  but  he  did  not  remember  that  she 
had  ever  talked  exactly  as  she  was  talking  now,  and  he 
attributed  her  manner  to  her  nervousness.  He  laughed 
carelessly  at  her  last  remark. 

"I  am  not  used  to  such  good  treatment,"  he  said, 
"though  I  never  can  understand  why  people  take  the 
trouble  to  doubt  one's  word.  It  is  so  much  easier  to 
believe  everything  —  so  much  less  trouble." 

"  I  should  not  have  thought  that  you  were  a  very  cred 
ulous  person,"  answered  Adele.  "You  have  had  too 
much  experience  for  that." 

"Experience  does  not  always  mean  disillusionment. 
One  may  find  out  that  there  are  honest  people  as  well  as 
dishonest  in  the  world." 

If  Laura  Arden  had  been  present  she  would  have  been 
more  than  ever  inclined  to  distrust  Ghisleri  just  then. 
She  would  have  wondered  what  possessed  him  to  make 
him  say  things  so  very  different  from  those  he  generally 
said  to  her.  .  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  wished  Adele  to 
trust  him,  for  especial  reasons,  and  he  knew  her  well 
enough  to  judge  how  his  speeches  would  affect  her.  She 
had  betrayed  herself  to  him  a  few  minutes  earlier  and  he 
desired  to  efface  the  impression  in  her  mind  before  lead 
ing  her  into  another  trap. 

"Do  you  think  the  world  is  such  a  very  good  place?" 
she  asked.  "Have  you  found  it  so?" 

"  It  is  often  very  unjustly  abused  by  those  who  live  in 
it  —  as  they  are  themselves  by  their  friends.  Belief  on 
the  one  side  must  mean  disbelief  on  the  other." 

This  time  Adele  gave  no  sign  of  being  touched  by  the 
thrust.  She  was  too  much  accustomed  to  whatever  sen 
sations  she  experienced  when  accidental  or  intentional 
reference  was  made  to  her  astonishing  talent  for  gossip. 

"As  for  that,"  she  said  quite  naturally,  "every  one 
talks  about  every  one  else,  and  some  things  are  true  just 
as  some  are  not.  If  we  did  not  talk  of  people  how  should 
we  make  conversation?  It  would  be  quite  impossible,  I 
am  sure ! " 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  259 

"  Oh,  of  course.  But  if  there  is  to  be  that  sort  of  con 
versation,  it  can  always  take  the  form  of  a  discussion, 
and  one  can  put  oneself  on  the  right  side  from  the  begin 
ning  just  as  easily  as  not.  It  saves  so  much  trouble 
afterwards.  The  person  who  is  always  on  the  wrong  side 
is  generally  the  one  about  whom  the  others  are  talking. 
If  we  could  hear  a  tenth  of  what  is  said  about  ourselves 
I  fancy  we  should  be  very  uncomfortable." 

"Yes,  indeed.  Even  our  servants  —  think  how  they 
must  abuse  us !  " 

"  No  doubt.  But  they  have  a  practical  advantage  over 
us  in  that  way.  When  they  really  know  anything  par 
ticularly  scandalous  about  us  they  can  convert  it  into 
ready  money." 

Ghisleri  had  not  the  least  intention  of  conveying 
any  hidden  meaning  by  his  words,  for  he  was  of  course 
completely  ignorant  of  the  occurrence  which  had  dis 
turbed  Adele's  whole  life  more  than  any  other  hitherto. 
But  he  noticed  that  she  again  bent  over  her  glass  and 
looked  into  it,  though  the  sugar  was  by  this  time  quite 
dissolved.  Her  hand  shook  a  little  as  she  moved  the 
spoon  about  in  the  sweetened  water.  Then  she  drank  a 
little,  and  drew  a  long  breath. 

"That  is  always  a  most  disagreeable  position,'-  she 
said  boldly.  "We  were  talking  about  it  the  other  day. 
I  wish  you  had  been  there.  Gouache  was  telling  a  for 
eigner —  Prince  Durakoff,  I  think  it  was  —  the  old  story 
of  how  Prince  Montevarchi  was  murdered  by  his  own 
librarian  because  he  would  not  pay  the  man  a  sum  of 
money  in  the  way  of  blackmail.  You  know  it,  of  course. 
The  two  families,  the  Montevarchi  and  the  Saracinesca, 
kept  it  very  quiet  and  no  one  ever  knew  all  the  details. 
Some  people  say  that  San  Giacinto  killed  the  librarian, 
and  some  say  that  the  librarian  killed  himself.  That  is 
no  matter.  What  would  you  have  done?  That  is  the 
question.  Would  you  have  paid  the  money  in  the  hope 
of  silencing  the  man?  Or  would  you  have  refused  as  the 
old  Prince  did?  Gouache  said  that  it  was  always  a  mis 
take  to  yield,  and  that  Montevarchi  did  quite  right." 


260  PIETKO   GHISLERI. 

Ghisleri  considered  the  matter  a  few  moments  before 
he  gave  an  answer.  He  was  almost  sure  by  this  time  that 
she  actually  found  herself  in  some  such  position  as  she 
described,  and  that  she  really  needed  advice.  It  was 
characteristic  of  the  man  who  had  been  trying  to  make 
her  betray  herself  and  had  succeeded  beyond  his  expec 
tation,  that  he  was  unwilling  to  give  her  such  counsel  as 
might  lead  to  her  own  destruction.  In  his  complicated 
code,  that  would  have  savoured  of  treachery.  He  sud 
denly  withdrew  into  himself  as  it  were,  and  tried  to  look 
at  the  matter  objectively,  as  an  outsider. 

"It  is  a  most  difficult  question  to  answer,"  he  said  at 
last.  "  I  have  often  heard  it  discussed.  If  you  care  for 
my  own  personal  opinion,  I  will  give  it  to  you.  It  seems 
to  me  that  in  such  cases  one  should  be  guided  by  circum 
stances  as  they  arise,  but  that  one  can  follow  very  safely 
a  sort  of  general  rule.  If  the  blackmailer,  as  I  call  the 
person  in  possession  of  the  secret,  has  any  positive  proof, 
such  as  a  written  document,  or  any  other  object  of  the 
kind,  without  which  he  or  she  could  not  prove  the  accu 
sation,  and  if  the  accusation  is  really  of  a  serious  nature, 
then  I  think  it  would  be  wiser  to  buy  the  thing,  what 
ever  it  is,  at  any  price,  and  destroy  it  at  once.  But  if, 
as  in  most  of  such  affairs,  the  secret  is  merely  one  of 
words  which  the  blackmailers  may  speak  or  not  at  will, 
and  at  any  time,  I  believe  it  is  a  mistake  to  bribe  him 
or  her,  because  the  demand  for  hush-money  can  be  renewed 
indefinitely  so  long  as  the  person  concerned  lives,  or  has 
any  money  left  with  which  to  pay." 

Adele  had  listened  with  the  greatest  attention  through 
out,  and  the  direct  good  sense  of  his  answer  disarmed 
any  suspicion  she  might  have  entertained  in  regard  to 
the  remark  which  had  led  to  her  asking  his  advice.  She 
reasoned  naturally  enough  that  if  he  knew  anything  of 
her  position,  and  had  come  to  Gerano  to  gather  informa 
tion,  he  would  have  suggested  some  course  of  action  which 
would  throw  the  advantage  into  his  own  hands.  But  she 
did  not  know  the  man.  Moreover,  in  her  extreme  fear  of 


PIETRO   GHISLEEI.  261 

discovery,  she  had  for  a  moment  been  willing  to  admit 
that  he  might  know  far  more  than  was  in  any  way  possi 
ble,  if  he  knew  anything  at  all ;  whereas  in  truth  he  was 
but  making  the  most  vague  guesses  at  the  actual  facts. 
It  was  startling  to  realise  how  nearly  she  had  taken  him 
for  an  enemy,  after  inviting  him  as  a  friend,  and  in  per 
fectly  good  faith,  but  as  she  thought  over  the  conversation 
she  saw  how  naturally  the  remarks  which  had  frightened 
her  had  presented  themselves.  There  was  her  own 
insomnia  —  he  had  an  instance  of  a  man  who  had  suffered 
in  the  same  way.  A  remark  about  unjust  abuse  of  other 
people  —  that  was  quite  natural,  and  meant  nothing. 
Blackmail  extorted  by  servants  —  she  had  herself  led 
directly  to  it,  by  speculating  upon  what  servants  said  of 
their  masters.  It  was  all  very  natural.  She  made  up 
her  mind  that  she  had  been  wrong  in  mistrusting  his 
sincerity.  Besides,  she  liked  him,  and  her  judgment 
instinctively  inclined  to  favour  him. 

"I  think  you  are  quite  right,"  she  said,  after  a  few 
moments'  thought.  "I  never  heard  it  put  so  directly 
before,  and  your  view  seems  to  be  the  only  sensible  one. 
If  the  secret  can  be  kept  by  buying  an  object  and  destroy 
ing  it,  then  buy  it.  If  not,  deny  it  boldly,  and  refuse  to 
pay.  Yes,  that  is  the  wisest  solution  I  have  ever  heard 
offered." 

Ghisleri  saw  that  he  had  produced  a  good  effect  and 
was  well-satisfied.  He  turned  back  to  a  former  point  in 
order  to  change  the  subject  of  the  conversation. 

"  That  old  story  of  the  Montevarchi  has  interested  me," 
he  said.  "  I  wish  I  knew  it  all.  Without  being  at  all  of 
an  historical  genius,  I  am  fond  of  all  sorts  of  family  his 
tories.  Lady  Herbert  was  saying  yesterday  that  there 
are  many  strange  legends  and  stories  connected  with  this 
old  place,  and  that  your  father  knows  them  all.  You 
must  know  a  great  deal  about  Gerano  yourself,  I  should 
think." 

"Oh,  of  course  I  do,"  answered  Adele,  with  alacrity. 
"  I  will  show  you  all  over  the  castle  to-morrow  morning. 


262  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

It  is  an  enormous  building,  and  bigger  than  you  would 
ever  suppose  from  the  outside.  I  will  show  you  where 
they  used  to  cut  off  heads  —  it  is  delightful !  The  head 
fell  through  a  hole  in  the  floor  into  a  heap  of  sawdust, 
they  say.  And  then  there  is  another  place,  where  they 
threw  criminals  out  of  the  window,  with  four  seats  in  it, 
two  for  the  executioners,  one  for  the  confessor,  and  one 
in  the  middle  for  the  condemned  man.  They  did  those 
things  so  coolly  and  systematically  in  those  good  old  days. 
You  shall  see  it  all;  there  are  the  dungeons,  and  the 
trap-doors  through  which  people  were  made  to  tumble 
into  them ;  there  is  every  sort  of  appliance  —  belonging 
to  family  life  in  the  middle  ages." 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  see  it  all  if  you  will  be  my 
guide,"  said  Ghisleri. 

They  continued  to  talk  upon  indifferent  subjects.  At 
dinner  Pietro  took  much  pains  to  be  agreeable,  and  suc 
ceeded  admirably,  for  he  was  well  able  to  converse 
pleasantly  when  he  chose.  Though  extremely  tired,  he 
sat  up  till  nearly  midnight  talking  politics  with  Savelli, 
as  Adele  had  foreseen,  and  when  he  was  at  last  shown  to 
his  distant  room  by  Bonifazio,  who  had  spent  most  of 
his  day  in  studying  the  topography  of  the  castle,  he  was 
very  nearly  exhausted. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

PIETRO  GHISLERI  slept  soundly  that  night.  Of  late, 
indeed,  he  had  become  less  restless  than  he  had  formerly 
been,  and  he  attributed  the  change  to  the  weakness  which 
was  the  consequence  of  his  wound.  There  were  probably 
other  causes  at  work  at  that  time  of  which  he  was  hardly 
conscious  himself,  but  which  ultimately  produced  a 
change  in  him,  and  in  his  way  of  looking  at  the  world. 

He  stood  at  his  open  window  early  in  the  morning, 
and  gazed  out  at  the  fresh,  bright  country.  The  delicate 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  268 

hand  of  spring  had  already  touched  the  world  with 
colour,  and  the  breath  of  the  coming  warmth  had  waked 
the  life  in  all  those  things  which  die  yearly,  and  are 
yearly  raised  again.  Ghisleri  felt  the  morning  sun  upon 
his  thin,  pale  face,  and  he  realised  that  he  also  had  been 
very  near  to  death  during  the  dark  months,  and  he  remem 
bered  how  he  had  wished  that  he  might  be  not  near 
only  to  dying,  but  dead  altogether,  never  to  take  up  again 
the  play  that  had  grown  so  wearisome  and  empty  in  his 
eyes. 

But  now  a  change  had  come.  For  the  first  time  in 
years,  he  knew  that  if  the  choice  were  suddenly  offered 
him  at  the  present  moment  he  would  choose  to  live  out 
all  the  days  allotted  to  him,  and  would  wish  that  they 
might  be  many  rather  than  few.  There  was,  indeed,  a 
dark  spot  on  the  page  last  turned,  of  which  he  could 
never  efface  the  memory,  nor,  in  his  own  estimation, 
outlive  the  shame.  In  his  day-dreams  Maddalena  dell7 
Armi's  coldly  perfect  face  was  often  before  him  with  an 
expression  upon  it  which  he  feared  to  see,  knowing  too 
well  why  it  was  there  —  and  out  of  a  deeper  depth  of 
memory  dead  Bianca  Corleone's  eyes  looked  at  him  with 
reproach  and  sometimes  with  scorn.  There  was  much 
pain  in  store  for  him  yet,  of  the  kind  at  which  the 
world  never  guessed,  nor  ever  could.  But  he  would 
not  try  to  escape  from  it.  He  would  not  again  so  act  or 
think  as  to  call  himself  coward  in  his  own  heart's  tribunal. 

He  looked  out  at  the  distant  hills,  and  down  at  the 
broad  battlements  and  massive  outworks  of  the  ancient 
fortress,  and  fell  to  thinking  rather  idly  about  the  people 
who  had  lived,  and  fought,  and  quarrelled,  and  slain  each 
other,  within  and  around  those  enormous  walls,  and  then 
he  thought  all  at  once  of  Adele  Savelli,  and  of  his  suspi 
cions  regarding  her.  He  was  in  a  particularly  charitable 
frame  of  mind  on  that  morning,  and  he  suddenly  felt  that 
what  he  had  almost  believed  on  the  previous  night  was 
utterly  beyond  the  bounds  of  probability.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  he  had  no  manner  of  right  to  accuse  any  one  of 


264  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

the  crime  he  had  imputed  to  her,  on  the  most  shadowy 
grounds,  and  absolutely  without  proof,  unless  the  coin 
cidence  of  her  uneasy  behaviour,  with  certain  vague 
remarks  of  his  own,  could  be  taken  as  evidence.  He  sat 
down  to  think  it  all  over,  drinking  his  coffee  by  the  open 
window,  and  enjoying  the  sunshine  and  the  sweet  morn 
ing  air.  The  whole  world  looked  so  good  and  innocent 
and  fresh  as  he  gazed  out  upon  it,  that  the  possibilities 
of  evil  seemed  to  shrink  away  into  nothing. 

But  as  he  systematically  reviewed  the  events  of  the 
past  months,  his  suspicion  returned  almost  with  the  force 
of  conviction.  The  coincidences  were  too  numerous  to  be 
attributed  to  chance  alone.  Adele's  distress  of  mind  was 
too  evident  to  be  denied.  Altogether  there  was  no  escap 
ing  from  the  conclusion  that  willingly  or  unwillingly  she 
had  been  consciously  instrumental  in  bringing  about  Ar- 
den's  illness  and  death.  Her  questions  about  the  wisest 
course  to  pursue  in  cases  of  blackmail,  pointed  to  the  prob 
ability  if  not  the  certainty  that  some  third  person  was 
acquainted  with  what  had  happened,  and  this  person  was 
in  all  likelihood  the  maid  Lucia.  So  far  his  reasoning 
took  him  quickly  and  plausibly  enough,  but  no  further. 
How  the  scarlet  fever  had  been  communicated  from  Lucia 
to  Herbert  Arden  was  more  than  Ghisleri  could  guess, 
but  if  Adele  was  really  in  the  serving  woman's  power,  it 
must  have  been  done  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  what  had 
happened  quite  clear  to  the  latter.  After  thinking  over  all 
the  possibilities,  and  vainly  attempting  to  solve  the  hard 
problem,  G-hisleri  found  himself  as  much  at  sea  as  ever, 
and  was  driven  to  acknowledge  that  he  must  trust  to 
chance  for  obtaining  any  further  evidence  in  the  matter. 

Meanwhile  Adele  had  determined  to  follow  his  advice. 
Her  anxiety  was  becoming  unbearable,  and  she  felt  that 
she  could  not  endure  such  suspense  much  longer.  To 
accuse  Lucia  directly  of  having  opened  the  letter  and  com 
mitted  the  theft  would  be  rash  and  dangerous.  There 
was  a  bare  possibility  that  some  one  else  might  have  done 
the  deed.  She  must  in  any  case  be  cautious. 


PIETEO   GHISLERI.  265 

"  Lucia/7  she  said  that  morning,  while  the  woman  was 
doing  her  hair,  "do  you  remember  that  some  days  ago 
I  gave  you  a  letter  to  be  registered,  and  that  you  brought 
back  the  receipt  for  it  from  the  post-office  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Excellency,  I  remember  very  well."  Lucia  had 
been  expecting  for  a  long  time  that  her  mistress  would 
question  her  and  she  was  quite  prepared.  She  had  good 
nerves,  and  the  certainty  that  the  great  lady  was  alto 
gether  in  her  power  made  her  cool  and  collected. 

"  A  very  extraordinary  thing  happened  to  that  letter," 
said  Adele,  looking  up  at  her  own  face  in  the  glass,  to 
give  herself  courage.  "  It  was  rather  important.  I  had 
written  to  Padre  Bonaventura,  asking  spiritual  guidance, 
and  I  particularly  desired  an  answer.  But  he  wrote  to 
me  by  return  of  post,  saying  that  when  he  opened  the  en 
velope  he  found  only  four  sheets  of  blank  paper  without 
a  word  written  on  them.  You  see  somebody  must  have 
thought  there  was  money  in  the  letter." 

"  They  are  such  thieves  at  the  post-office  !  "  exclaimed 
Lucia.  "  But  this  is  a  terrible  affair,  Excellency  !  What 
is  to  be  done  ?  The  post-master  must  be  sent  to  the 
galleys  immediately ! " 

In  Lucia's  conception  of  the  law  such  a  summary  course 
seemed  quite  practicable. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  would  be  very  unjust,  and  could  do 
no  good  at  all,"  said  Adele.  "  I  am  quite  sure  that  the 
post-master  would  not  have  dared  to  open  a  letter  already 
registered,  and  for  which  he  had  given  a  receipt.  As  for 
any  one  in  the  house  having  done  it,  I  cannot  believe  it 
either.  I  gave  it  into  your  hands  myself  and  you  brought 
me  back  the  stamped  bit  of  paper  —  it  is  there  in  my 
jewel  case.  I  only  wish  you  to  find  out  for  me,  very 
quietly  and  without  exciting  suspicion,  who  took  that 
letter  to  the  post.  If  I  could  get  it  back  I  would  give  the 
person  who  brought  it  to  me  a  handsome  reward.  You 
understand,  Lucia,  how  disagreeable  it  is  to  feel  that  a 
letter  concerning  one's  most  sacred  feelings  is  lost,  and 
has  perhaps  been  read  by  more  than  one  person." 


PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

"  I  cannot  imagine  anything  more  dreadful !  But  be 
easy,  Excellency.  I  will  do  all  I  can,  and  none  of  the 
servants  shall  suspect  that  I  am  questioning  them." 

"I  shall  be  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Lucia,"  said 
Adele.  "Very  much  obliged,"  she  repeated,  with  some 
emphasis. 

"  It  is  only  my  duty  to  serve  your  Excellency,  who  has 
always  been  so  good  to  me,"  answered  Lucia,  humbly. 

Adele  knew  that  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  said  for 
the  present,  and  she  congratulated  herself  on  having  been 
diplomatic  in  her  way  of  offering  the  bribe.  Lucia  would 
now  in  all  likelihood  take  some  time  to  decide,  but  for 
the  present  she  would  certainly  not  part  with  the  precious 
document.  Adele  felt  sure  that  it  had  neither  been  de 
stroyed  nor  sent  out  of  the  castle.  Lucia  probably  kept 
it  concealed  in  a  safe  corner  of  her  own  room,  under  lock 
and  key,  and  to  attempt  to  get  possession  of  it  by  force 
would  be  out  of  the  question.  As  in  most  Italian  houses, 
the  servants  all  locked  their  own  rooms  and  carried  the 
keys  about  with  them.  Lucia,  of  course,  did  like  the  rest. 

But  Lucia,  on  her  side,  distrusted  her  mistress.  Know 
ing  what  she  now  knew  of  Adele,  she  believed  her  capable 
of  almost  anything,  including  the  picking  of  a  lock  and 
the  skilful  abstraction  of  the  letter  from  its  secret  hiding- 
place.  As  soon  as  she  was  at  liberty  she  went  and  got 
the  paper  and  concealed  it  in  her  bosom,  intending  to 
keep  it  there  until  she  could  select  some  safe  spot  in  a 
remote  part  of  the  castle,  where  she  might  put  it  away  in 
greater  safety.  To  carry  it  about  with  her  until  Adele 
took  her  back  to  Borne  would  be  rash,  she  thought. 
Adele  might  suspect  where  it  was  at  any  moment,  and 
force  her  to  give  it  up.  Or  it  might  be  lost,  which  would 
be  even  worse. 

Adele  herself  felt  singularly  relieved.  She  had  very 
little  doubt  but  that  Lucia  would  come  to  terms.  She 
might,  indeed,  ask  a  very  large  sum,  and  it  might  be  very 
inconvenient  to  be  obliged  to  find  it  at  short  notice.  But 
the  sole  heiress  to  an  enormous  estate  would  certainly  be 


PIETEO    GHISLERI.  267 

able  to  get  money  in  some  way  or  other.  In  the  meantime 
Lucia  would  not  offer  it  to  any  one  else,  since  of  all  people 
her  mistress  would  be  willing  to  make  the  greatest  sacri 
fice  to  obtain  possession  of  it.  On  the  whole,  therefore, 
Adele's  anxiety  diminished  on  that  day,  and  she  seemed 
better  when  she  met  her  husband  and  Ghisleri  in  the  great 
court-yard  where  they  were  sunning  themselves  and  con 
tinuing  their  talk  about  politics. 

"  I  promised  that  I  would  show  you  the  castle,"  she 
said  to  Pietro.  "  Would  it  amuse  you  to  go  with  me  now  ? 
Francesco  does  not  care  to  come,  of  course,  and  he  always 
has  his  business  with  the  steward  to  attend  to  before 
breakfast." 

Pietro  expressed  his  readiness  to  follow  her  from  the 
deepest  dungeon  to  the  topmost  turret  of  the  castle. 

"  Have  you  slept  well  ?  "  he  asked,  as  they  moved  away 
together.  "  You  are  looking  much  better  this  morning." 

"  Yes.  I  feel  better,"  she  answered.  "  Do  you  know 
I  think  your  coming  has  had  something  to  do  with  it. 
You  have  cheered  us  with  your  talk  and  your  news.  We 
were  fast  falling  into  the  vegetable  stage,  Francesco 
and  I." 

Ghisleri  smiled,  partly  out  of  politeness  and  partly  at 
his  own  thoughts. 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  been  of  any  use,"  he  said.  "  I  will 
do  my  best  to  be  amusing  as  long  as  you  will  have  me." 

"  You  need  not  take  it  as  such  an  enormous  compli 
ment,"  Adele  laughed.  "  Of  course,  you  are  very  agree 
able,  —  at  least,  you  can  be  when  you  choose,  —  but  the 
great  thing  is  to  have  somebody,  anybody  one  knows  and 
likes  a  little,  in  this  dreary  place.  Shall  we  begin  at  the 
top  or  the  bottom  ?  The  prisons  or  the  towers  ?  Which 
shall  it  be  ?  " 

"  If  there  is  a  choice,  let  us  begin  in  the  lower  regions," 
answered  Ghisleri.  "  Do  you  like  me  a  little,  Donna 
Adele  ?  "  he  asked,  as  she  led  the  way  along  the  curved 
and  smoothly  paved  descent  which  led  downwards  to  the 
subterranean  part  of  the  fortress. 


268  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

She  laughed  lightly,  and  glanced  at  him.  She  had  al 
ways  wished  to  make  a  conquest  of  Pietro  Ghisleri,  but 
she  had  found  few  opportunities  of  being  alone  with  him, 
for  he  had  never  been  among  the  assiduous  at  her  shrine. 
She  knew  also  how  much  he  admired  Laura  Arden,  and 
she  suspected  him  of  being  incipiently  in  love.  It  would 
be  delightful  to  detach  him  from  that  allegiance. 

"  Yes,7'  she  said,  "  I  like  you  a  little.  Did  you  expect 
me  to  like  you  very  much  ?  You  have  never  done  any 
thing  to  deserve  it." 

"  I  wish  I  could,"  answered  Ghisleri,  with  complete  in 
sincerity.  "  But  I  am  afraid  I  should  never  get  so  far  as 
that." 

"Why  not?" 

"When  a  woman  loves  her  husband  — "  He  did  not 
finish  the  sentence,  for  it  seemed  unnecessary. 

"I  do  not  want  you  to  make  love  to  me,"  Adele  an 
swered,  "though  I  believe  you  know  how  to  do  it  to  per 
fection.  It  is  often  a  very  long  way  from  liking  very 
much  to  loving  a  very  little.  This  is  the  place  where  old 
Gianluca  kept  his  brother  Paolo  in  prison  for  eighteen 
years.  Then  Gianluca  died  suddenly  one  fine  morning, 
and  Paolo  was  let  out  by  the  soldiers  and  immediately 
threw  Gianluca' s  wife  out  of  the  window  of  the  east 
tower,  and  cut  off  the  heads  of  his  two  sons  on  the  same 
afternoon.  I  will  show  you  where  that  was  done  when 
we  go  up  stairs.  Paolo  was  an  extremely  energetic  per 
son." 

"  Decidedly  so,  I  should  say,"  assented  Ghisleri.  "  You 
are  all  descended  from  him,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,  he  took  care  that  we  should  be,  by  killing  all 
the  other  branches  of  the  family.  Those  hollows  in  the 
stone  are  supposed  to  have  been  made  by  his  footsteps. 
Think  what  a  walk !  It  lasted  eighteen  years.  But  it  is 
an  airy  place  and  not  damp.  Those  windows  were  there 
then,  they  say.  Do  you  see  that  deep  channel  in  the 
wall  ?  It  leads  straight  up  through  the  castle  to  the 
floor  of  the  little  passage  between  the  old  guard-room 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  269 

and  one  of  the  towers.  There  used  to  be  a  trap-door  — 
it  was  still  there  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  but  my  father 
has  had  a  slab  of  stone  put  down  instead.  They  used  to 
entice  their  dearest  and  most  familiar  enemies  up  there, 
and  just  as  the  man  set  foot  on  the  board  a  soldier  in  the 
tower  pulled  a  bolt  in  the  wall  and  the  trap-door  fell.  It 
is  two  hundred  feet,  they  say.  It  was  so  cleverly  man 
aged  !  They  say  that  the  last  person  who  came  to  grief 
there  was  a  Monsignor  Boccapaduli  in  the  year  sixteen 
hundred  and  something,  but  no  one  ever  knew  what  had 
become  of  him  until  the  next  generation." 

Familiar  from  her  childhood  with  every  corner  of  the 
vast  building,  she  led  Ghisleri  through  one  portion  after 
another,  telling  such  of  the  tales  of  horror  as  she  remem 
bered.  Little  by  little  they  worked  their  way  to  the 
upper  regions.  In  the  guard-room,  a  vast  hall  which 
would  have  made  a  good-sized  church,  she  showed  him  the 
great  slab  of  stone  the  Prince  had  substituted  for  the 
wooden  trap-door  of  former  days,  and  which  had  merely 
been  placed  over  the  yawning  chasm  without  plaster  or 
cement,  its  own  weight  being  enough  to  keep  it  in  position. 
They  passed  over  it  and  ascended  the  stairs  in  the  tower, 
emerging  at  last  into  the  bright  sunshine  upon  one  of  the 
highest  battlements.  They  sat  down  side  by  side  on  a 
stone  bench. 

"  It  is  pleasanter  here,"  said  Adele.  "  There  is  a  sort 
of  attraction  about  those  dreadful  old  places  down  below, 
because  one  never  quite  realises  all  the  things  that  hap 
pened  there,  and  it  is  rather  like  an  old-fashioned  novel, 
all  full  of  murder  and  sudden  death.  But  the  sunshine 
is  much  nicer,  is  it  not  ?  Shall  we  stay  up  here  till  it  is 
time  for  breakfast  ?  " 

"By  all  means.  It  is  a  delightful  place  for  a  good 
talk."  Ghisleri  was  tired,  and  glad  to  sit  down. 

"Then  you  must  talk  to  me,"  continued  his  compan 
ion.  "Between  the  stairs  and  playing  guide,  I  have  no 
voice  left.  What  will  you  talk  about?  Tell  me  all 
about  your  own  castle.  They  say  it  is  very  interesting. 
I  wish  I  could  see  it ! " 


270  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

"  After  Gerano  it  would  seem  very  tame  to  you.  It  is 
mostly  in  ruins,  and  what  there  is  left  of  it  is  very  much 
the  worse  for  wear.  I  would  not  advise  you  to  take  the 
trouble  to  stop,  even  if  you  should  ever  pass  near  it." 

"  That  is  a  way  you  have  of  depreciating  everything 
connected  with  yourself,"  said  Adele.  "  Why  do  you  do 
it?" 

"  Do  I  ?  "  asked  Ghisleri,  carelessly.  "  I  suppose  I  have 
the  idea  that  it  is  better  to  let  people  be  agreeably  sur 
prised,  if  there  is  to  be  any  surprise  at  all.  When  you 
have  heard  that  a  man  is  insufferable,  if  he  turns  out 
barely  tolerable  you  think  him  nice." 

"  Then  it  is  mere  pose  on  your  part,  with  the  deliberate 
intention  of  producing  an  effect  ?  " 

"  Probably  —  mere  pose."  Ghisleri  laughed ;  he  looked 
at  the  woman  at  his  side  and  wondered  whether  he  could 
ever  find  out  the  truth  about  Arden's  death,  and  the  con 
nexion  with  it  which,  as  he  believed,  she  must  have  had. 

She,  on  her  part,  did  not  even  guess  that  he  suspected 
her.  The  thought  had  crossed  her  mind  on  the  previous 
afternoon,  but  she  had  "very  soon  dismissed  it.  She 
found  relief  and  change  from  the  monotonous  suffering 
of  the  past  days  in  talking  to  him,  and  she  tried  to  enjoy 
what  she  could  without  allowing  her  mind  to  wander  back 
to  its  chief  preoccupation.  Ghisleri  was  very  careful 
not  to  rouse  her  suspicion  by  any  accidental  reference  to 
what  filled  his  thoughts  as  much  as  it  did  her  own,  and 
they  spent  more  than  half  an  hour  in  aimless  and  more 
or  less  amusing  conversation. 

Gerano  did  not  offer  any  very  great  variety  of  amuse 
ment.  After  breakfast,  there  was  the  usual  interval  for 
smoking  and  coffee,  and  after  that  the  usual  drive  of  two 
or  three  hours  in  the  hills.  Then,  tea  and  small  talk,  the 
dressing  hour,  the  arrival  of  the  post  with  the  morning 
papers  from  Koine,  dinner,  more  smoking,  and  more  con 
versation,  and  bed-time  was  reached.  It  was  not  gay, 
and  when  he  retired  for  the  night  Ghisleri  was  beginning 
to  wonder  how  long  he  could  endure  the  ordeal  with 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  271 

equanimity.  He  was  not  generally  a  man  very  easily 
bored,  and  the  reasons  which  had  brought  him  to  Gerano 
were  strong  enough  in  themselves  to  make  him  ready  to 
sacrifice  a  good  deal,  but  he  realised  that  he  was  not  mak 
ing  any  advance  in  the  direction  of  discovering  the  secret. 
He  had  learned  more  in  the  first  few  hours  of  his  stay 
than  he  had  learned  since,  and  so  far  as  he  could  see,  he 
was  not  likely  to  find  out  anything  more.  He  had  noticed, 
too,  the  improvement  in  Adele's  appearance  on  that  day. 
It  was  possible  that  she  had  already  acted  upon  the  gen 
eral  advice  he  had  given  her,  and  that  she  had  insured 
the  silence  of  the  person  she  dreaded,  if  any  such  person 
existed.  But  it  was  equally  possible  that  no  one  knew 
what  she  had  done,  and  that  she  had  not  meant  anything 
by  the  question. 

The  third  day  passed  like  the  second,  and  the  fourth  be 
gan  without  promising  any  change.  Adele  appeared  as 
usual  at  eleven  o'clock  and  spent  an  hour  with  Ghisleri. 
They  were  becoming  more  intimate  by  this  time  than 
they  had  ever  been  before  during  their  long  acquaint 
ance,  and  Adele  flattered  herself  that  she  had  made  an 
impression.  Ghisleri  would  not  forget  the  hospitality 
she  had  offered  him,  and  next  year  would  be  more  often 
seen  in  the  circle  of  her  admirers.  She  even  imagined 
that  he  might  fall  into  a  sort  of  mild  and  harmless  flirta 
tion,  if  she  knew  how  to  manage  him. 

A  little  before  the  hour  for  breakfast  she  went  to  her 
room.  Lucia  was  there,  as  usual,  waiting  in  case  she 
should  be  needed.  As  she  retouched  Adele's  hair,  and 
gave  a  final  twist  with  the  curling  tongs  to  the  ringlets 
at  the  back  of  her  mistress's  neck,  she  began  to  speak  in 
a  low  voice  and  in  a  somewhat  hurried  manner. 

"  I  have  found  out  who  took  the  letter,  Excellency," 
she  said.  "  It  is  in  a  safe  place  and  no  one  else  has  seen 
it.  The  person  will  give  it  to  me  at  once  if  the  reward 
is  large  enough." 

Adele's  eyes  sparkled,  and  a  little  colour  rose  in  her 
cheeks.  Lucia  watched  the  reflection  of  her  face  in  the 


mirror. 


272  PIETEO   GHISLERI. 

"How  much  does  she  ask  ?  "  she  inquired,  without 
hesitation,  and  with  a  certain  business-like  sharpness  in 
her  tone. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  as  Lucia  withdrew  the 
tongs  from  the  little  curl. 

"She  asks  five  thousand  francs,"  she  said,  in  some 
trepidation,  for  she  had  hardly  ever  in  her  life  even 
spoken  of  so  large  a  sum. 

"  That  is  a  great  deal,"  answered  Adele,  pretending  to 
be  surprised,  while  doing  her  best  to  conceal  her  satisfac 
tion.  " I  have  not  so  much  money  out  here ;  indeed,  Don 
Francesco  has  not  either.  She  must  wait  until  we  go 
to  Rome." 

"  A  year,  if  your  Excellency  pleases,"  said  the  maid, 
blowing  scent  upon  a  transparent  handkerchief  from  an 
atomizer. 

"In  the  meanwhile  I  should  like  to  have  the  letter. 
I  suppose  she  would  accept  my  promise  —  written,  if  she 
requires  it  ?  " 

"Of  course  she  would,  and  she  would  give  me  the 
papers  at  once  —  or  instead  of  a  promise,  I  have  no  doubt 
she  would  be  perfectly  satisfied  with  a  bit  of  jewelry  as  a 
pledge." 

"That  would  be  simpler,"  said  Adele,  coldly.  She 
could  not  but  be  astonished  at  the  woman's  cool  effrontery, 
though  it  was  impossible  to  refuse  anything  she  asked. 
"  I  will  give  you  a  diamond  for  her  to  keep  as  a  pledge," 
she  added,  "but  I  want  the  letter  this  afternoon." 
"Yes,  Excellency." 

During  the  midday  meal  Adele  was  by  turns  absent  and 
then  very  gay.  She  seemed  restless  and  uneasy  during 
the  coffee  and  cigarette  stage  of  the  afternoon.  Ghisleri 
watched  her  with  curiosity.  Fully  half  an  hour  earlier 
than  usual  she  went  to  her  room  to  get  ready  for  the 
regulation  drive. 

Lucia  was  waiting  for  her,  pale  as  death  and  evidently 
in  a  state  of  the  greatest  agitation.  Without  a  word 
Adele  unlocked  her  jewel  case,  took  out  a  little  morocco 


P1ETEO   GHISLEEI.  273 

covered  box,  opened  it,  and  glanced  at  a  pair  of  diamond 
ear-rings  it  contained,  shut  it  again  and  held  it  out  to 
Lucia.  To  her  surprise  the  woman  drew  back,  clearly  in 
great  terror,  and  trying  to  get  behind  the  long  toilet  table 
as  though  in  fear  of  bodily  harm. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ? "  asked  Adele,  in  surprise. 
"  Where  is  the  letter  ?  Why  do  you  not  give  it  to  me  ?  " 

"A  great  misfortune  has  happened/'  gasped  Lucia, 
hardly  able  to  speak.  "  I  cannot  get  it  from  the  person.'7 

"  What ! "  Adele' s  voice  rang  through  the  room.  "  Do 
you  want  more  money  now  ?  What  is  this  comedy  ?  " 

"The  letter  is  not  there  —  I  —  she  does  not  know 
where  it  is.  It  is  lost  —  Excellency  —  " 

"  Lost  ?     Where  did  you  hide  it  ?  " 

Lucia  was  almost  too  frightened  by  this  time  to  tell 
connectedly  what  had  happened,  but  Adele  understood 
before  long  that  the  maid  had  looked  about  for  a  safe 
place  in  which  to  hide  the  precious  document,  and  had  at 
last  decided  to  slip  it  under  the  great  slab  of  stone  which 
has  been  already  mentioned  as  covering  the  opening  of 
the  oubliette  between  the  guard-room  and  the  tower. 
Lucia  had  found  that  on  one  side,  owing  to  the  irregular 
ity  of  the  old  pavement,  there  was  room  to  lay  the  folded 
papers,  and  that  she  could  just  slip  her  hand  in  so  as  to 
withdraw  them  again.  She  was,  of  course,  quite  igno 
rant  that  the  stone  covered  a  well  of  which  the  shaft  pen 
etrated  to  the  lowest  foundation  of  the  castle,  and  that 
one  touch  of  her  hand,  or  a  gust  of  wind,  was  enough  to 
send  the  light  sheets  over  the  edge  close  to  which  she 
had  unwittingly  placed  them.  Adele  still  pretended  to 
be  angry,  but  she  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief.  She 
knew  the  exact  spot  at  which  to  look  for  what  she  wanted. 
She  locked  up  her  diamonds  again,  scolding  Lucia  for 
her  carelessness  all  the  time,  and  doing  her  best  to  be 
very  severe.  Lucia  bore  all  that  was  said  to  her  very 
meekly,  for  she  had  expected  far  worse.  In  her  opinion 
some  one  had  accidentally  discovered  the  letter,  and  taken 
it,  and  would  make  capital  out  of  it  as  she  had  meant  to 


274  PIETRO  GHISLERI. 

do.  Her  disappointment  was  as  great,  as  the  sum  of  five 
thousand  francs  had  seemed  to  her  enormous,  but  her 
fear  soon  vanished  when  she  saw  that  Adele  had  no  in 
tention  of  doing  her  any  bodily  injury,  nor,  apparently, 
of  dismissing  her  again.  That  the  papers  were  really 
gone  from  the  place  of  concealment  she  knew  beyond  a 
doubt.  She  had  lit  a  taper  in  her  effort  to  find  them,  and 
had  thrust  it  under  the  slab,  bending  low  and  looking  into 
the  crevice.  Nothing  white  of  any  sort  had  been  visible. 

Adele  dressed  herself  for  going  out  and  left  the  room. 
But  instead  of  joining  her  husband  and  Ghisleri  at  once, 
she  turned  out  of  the  main  passage  by  the  cross  corridor 
which  led  to  the  court-yard,  went  out  and  walked  quickly 
down  the  inclined  road  by  which  she  had  led  G-hisleri  to 
Paolo  Braccio's  dungeon.  There,  where  the  shaft  of  the 
oubliette  came  down,  she  was  quite  sure  of  finding  the 
little  package  of  sheets  which  meant  so  much  to  her  and 
which  had  almost  meant  a  fortune  to  Lucia.  She  crossed 
the  worn  pavement  rapidly.  There  was  plenty  of  light 
from  the  grated  windows  high  up  under  the  vault,  and 
she  could  have  seen  the  paper  almost  as  soon  as  she 
entered  the  place.  She  stopped  short  as  she  reached  the 
foot  of  the  channel  in  the  wall.  There  was  nothing 
there.  She  stared  up  into  the  blackness  above  in  the 
hope  of  seeing  a  white  thing  caught  and  sticking  to  the 
stones,  but  she  could  not  distinguish  the  faintest  reflec 
tion  of  anything.  Yet  she  was  convinced  that  the  thing 
must  have  fallen  all  the  way.  The  shaft,  as  she  well 
knew,  was  quite  perpendicular  and  the  masonry  compact 
and  well  finished.  The  object  of  those  who  had  built  it 
had  been  precisely  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  the  victim 
catching  on  a  projection  of  any  sort  while  falling. 

Adele  turned  pale  and  leaned  against  the  wall,  breath 
ing  hard.  If  Lucia  had  acted  differently  she  might  have 
been  suspected  of  having  told  a  falsehood,  and  of  keeping 
the  letter  back  in  order  to  extort  a  larger  sum  for  it  at 
some  future  time.  But  Lucia  had  evidently  been  fright 
ened.  Moreover,  the  woman  was  undoubtedly  ignorant  of 


PIETHO   GHISLEK1.  275 

the  existence  of  the  well  under  the  stone,  or,  she  would 
never  have  been  so  foolish  as  to  choose  such  a  place  for 
hiding  anything  so  valuable,  and  it  was  clear  that  she  had 
no  idea  of  the  manner  in  which  the  package  had  dis 
appeared.  That  it  must  have  reached  the  bottom,  Adele 
was  quite  sure.  In  that  case  some  one  had  been  in  the 
dungeon  before  her  and  had  picked  it  up,  but  who  the 
some  one  might  be  she  had  no  means  of  conjecturing. 

She  hardly  knew  how  she  reached  the  court-yard  again. 
It  cost  her  a  superhuman  effort  to  walk.  In  the  passage 
she  met  her  husband. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked,  as  soon  as  he  saw 
her  face. 

"  I  feel  very  ill  —  I  wanted  to  breathe  the  air."  She 
seemed  to  be  gasping  for  breath. 

Francesco  drew  her  arm  through  his  and  walked  with 
her  to  her  room.  She  was  clearly  not  in  a  state  in  which 
she  could  think  of  going  out. 

Savelli  went  back  and  explained  to  Ghisleri,  who,  if 
anything,  was  glad  to  escape  from  the  monotonous  drive. 
He  got  a  book  and  shut  himself  up  in  his  room  to  read. 
That  evening  Savelli  told  him  that  Adele  was  worse,  and 
was  in  a  state  of  indescribable  nervous  agitation.  It  was 
clearly  his  duty  to  go  away,  if  Adele  were  about  to  be  seri 
ously  ill,  and  he  told  Bonifazio  to  pack  his  things  that 
night.  If  matters  did  not  improve,  he  would  leave  on  the 
following  morning. 

Though  Francesco  was  not  much  affected  by  his  wife's 
sufferings,  the  dinner  was  anything  but  brilliant,  for  he 
anticipated  a  renewal  of  all  the  annoyance  of  the  first 
few  days.  Moreover,  if  Adele  was  liable  to  sudden 
relapses  of  this  kind  at  any  moment,  and  without  the 
smallest  reason  or  warning,  his  life  would,  before  long, 
be  made  a  burden  to  him.  As  the  husband  of  a  perma 
nent  invalid  he  could  hope  for  very  little  liberty  or  amuse 
ment.  A  wife  may  go  into  the  world  without  her  husband, 
because  he  is  supposed  to  be  occupied  with  more  impor 
tant  affairs,  but  a  husband  who  frequents  parties  when 


276  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

his  wife  is  constantly  suffering,  is  considered  heartless 
in  the  extreme.  That,  at  least,  is  society's  view  of  the 
mutual  obligation,  and  if  it  is  not  the  just  one,  it  is  at 
least  founded  upon  the  theory  of  woman's  convenience, 
as  most  of  society's  views  are. 

Francesco  was  easily  prevailed  upon  to  give  Adele  an 
increased  dose  of  chloral,  in  the  hope  that  she  might  sleep, 
and  consequently  give  him  less  trouble  on  the  next  day. 
But  in  this  conclusion  he  was  mistaken.  She  awoke  in 
great  pain,  suffering,  she  said,  from  a  violent  headache, 
and  so  nervous  that  her  hand  trembled  violently  and  she 
was  hardly  able  to  lift  a  cup  to  her  lips  when  the  nurse 
brought  her  tea.  Savelli  did  not  attempt  to  keep  Ghis- 
leri  when  the  latter  announced  his  intention  of  returning 
to  town,  though  he  pressed  him  to  come  out  again,  as 
soon  as  Adele  should  be  better.  The  man  who  drove 
Pietro  back  was  instructed  to  bring  the  doctor  out  to  Ge- 
rano,  with  fresh  horses,  and  especially  not  to  forget  five 
hundred  cigarettes  which  Francesco  wanted  for  himself. 

Ghisleri  left  many  messages  for  Adele,  and  departed 
with  Bonifazio,  very  little  wiser  than  when  he  had  ar 
rived,  but  considerably  more  curious. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

IT  was  a  relief  to  be  with  Laura  Arden  again  for  an 
hour  on  the  day  after  his  return,  as  Ghisleri  felt  when 
he  was  installed  beside  her  in  the  chair  which  had  come 
to  be  regarded  as  his.  She  received  him  just  as  usual, 
and  he  saw  at  once  that  if  she  had  at  all  resented  his  visit 
to  Adele,  she  was  not  by  any  means  inclined  to  let  him 
know  it.  There  was  a  freshness  and  purity  in  the  atmos 
phere  that  surrounded  her  which  especially  appealed  to 
him  after  his  visit  to  Gerano.  Whatever  she  said  she 
meant,  and  if  she  meant  anything  she  took  no  trouble  to 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  277 

hide  it.  He  compared  her  face  with  her  step-sister's, 
and  the  jaded,  prematurely  world- worn  look  of  the  one 
threw  the  calm  beauty  of  the  other  into  strong  relief. 
He  felt  no  pity  for  Adele.  What  she  was,  she  had  made 
herself,  and  if  she  suffered,  it  was  as  the  direct  and  inevi 
table  consequence  of  the  life  she  had  led  and  of  the  things 
she  had  done.  So,  at  least,  it  seemed  to  him,  and  if  he 
could  have  known  the  whole  truth  at  that  time,  he  would 
have  seen  how  right  he  was.  The  ruthless  logic  of  cause 
and  effect  had  got  Adele  into  its  will  and  was  slowly 
grinding  her  whole  existence  to  dust. 

"It  is  strange,"  he  said  to  Laura,  "that  you  and  your 
step-sister  should  be  so  unlike  in  every  way.  It  is  true 
that  you  are  not  related,  but  you  were  brought  up  in  the 
same  house,  by  the  same  people,  and  yet  I  do  not  believe 
you  have  a  single  idea  in  common." 

"No,"  answered  Laura,  "we  have  not.  We  do  not 
like  the  same  persons,  nor  the  same  things,  nor  the  same 
thoughts.  We  were  made  to  be  enemies  —  and  I  suppose 
we  are." 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  said  so  much  to  him, 
and  even  now  there  was  no  rancour  in  her  tone. 

"  If  all  enemies  were  like  you,  at  least,  this  would  be 
a  very  peaceful  world." 

"You  do  not  know  me,"  answered  Laura,  with  a  smile. 
"  I  have  a  bad  temper.  I  could  tell  you  something  about 
it.  I  once  felt  as  though  I  would  like  to  strangle  a  cer 
tain  person,  and  as  though  I  could  do  it.  Do  not  imagine 
that  I  am  all  saint  and  no  sinner." 

"  I  like  to  imagine  all  sorts  of  nice  things  about  you, " 
said  Ghisleri.  "But  I  could  never  make  them  nice 
enough." 

"  That  is  just  it.  It  would  need  an  enormous  imagina 
tion." 

"  But  I  am  not  sure  that  I  should  like  to  think  of  you 
as  being  on  very  good  terms  with  Donna  Adele,  and  I  am 
almost  glad  to  hear  you  admit  that  you  are  enemies. 
There  is  a  satisfaction  in  knowing  that  you  are  human, 
as  well  as  in  believing  you  to  be  good." 


278  flETRO  GHISLERI. 


"How  is  Adele?"  Laura  asked. 

"  The  last  I  heard  was  that  she  was  much  worse.  She 
behaves  in  the  most  unaccountable  way.  She  has  the 
look  of  a  woman  in  some  very  great  mental  distress  — 
pursued  and  haunted  by  something  very  painful  from 
which  she  cannot  escape." 

"  I  had  the  same  feeling  about  her  the  last  time  I  saw 
her.  I  know  that  look  very  well.  I  have  seen  it  in  your 
face,  sometimes,  as  well  as  in  hers." 

"  In  mine?  "  G-hisleri  looked  keenly  at  her,  as  though 
to  ascertain  whether  she  meant  more  than  she  said,  for 
the  first  time  in  his  acquaintance  with  her.  "  When  did 
I  ever  show  you  that  I  was  in  trouble?"  he  asked. 

"  That  was  some  time  ago.  You  have  changed  since 
your  illness.  You  used  to  look  harassed  sometimes,  like 
a  man  who  has  a  wound  in  the  heart.  Perhaps  it  is  only 
something  which  depends  on  the  way  your  eyes  are  made. 
The  first  time  I  ever  noticed  it  was  —  yes,  I  remember 
very  well  —  it  was  more  than  a  year  ago,  that  night  when 
you  spoke  your  poem  in  the  Shrove  Tuesday  masquerade. 
It  was  not  when  you  were  talking  to  me.  You  looked 
perfectly  diabolical  then.  It  was  later.  I  saw  you  stand 
ing  alone  in  a  doorway  after  a  dance." 

"  What  a  memory  you  have  !  I  was  probably  in  a  bad 
humour.  I  generally  am,  even  now." 

"Why  do  you  say  even  now?  "  asked  Laura,  watching 
his  face. 

"Oh,  I  hardly  know,"  he  answered.  "All  sorts  of 
things  have  happened  to  me  since  then,  to  simplify  my 
existence.  At  that  time  it  was  very  particularly  compli 
cated." 

"  And  how  have  you  simplified  it?  "  She  put  the  ques 
tion  innocently  enough,  and  quite  thoughtlessly,  not  even 
guessing  at  the  truth. 

"  It  has  been  simplified  for  me.  It  came  near  being 
simplified  into  being  no  existence  at  all.  A  few  inches 
made  the  difference."  . 

"Yes,"  said  Laura,  thoughtfully,  "the  greatest  of  all 
differences  to  you." 


PIETRO  GHISLEEI.  279 

"And  none  at  all  to  any  one  else,"  added  Ghisleri,  with 
a  dry  laugh. 

She  turned  her  great  dark  eyes  upon  him.  The  lids 
drooped  a  little  as  she  scrutinised  his  face  somewhat 
coldly,  but  with  an  odd  interest. 

"I  suppose  that  might  be  quite  true,"  she  said  at  last. 
"  Perhaps  it  is.  But  I  do  not  like  you  any  the  better  for 
saying  it  in  that  way." 

Ghisleri  was  silent,  but  he  met  her  gaze  quietly  and 
without  flinching,  until  she  looked  away.  She  sighed  a 
little  as  she  took  up  a  bit  of  embroidery  she  was  doing 
for  some  garment  of  little  Herbert's. 

"Why  do  you  sigh?"  he  asked,  not  expecting  that  she 
would  answer  the  question. 

"For  some  one,"  she  said  simply,  and  she  began  to 
make  a  few  stitches. 

He  knew  that  she  was  thinking  of  Maddalena  dell' 
Armi,  and  his  heart  smote  him. 

"I  was  wrong  to  say  it,"  he  answered,  in  a  more  gentle 
tone.  "There  was  perhaps  one  exception  to  the  rule." 

Ghisleri  grew  even  more  careful  of  his  speech  after 
that.  But  he  did  not  see  Laura  often  before  she  went 
away  northward  for  the  summer.  The  spring  was  going 
fast,  and  the  time  was  coming  when  Eome  would  be  its 
quiet  old-fashioned  self  again  for  those  few  who  loved  it 
well  enough  to  face  the  heat  of  July  and  August.  Almost 
every  one  was  thinking  of  going  away.  The  Prince  and 
Princess  of  Gerano  were  going  out  to  the  castle  earlier 
than  usual,  for  the  news  of  Adele  grew  steadily  worse. 
Francesco  now  had  the  doctor  out  regularly  three  times 
a  week,  and  was  forced  to  lead  an  existence  he  detested. 
His  wife  was  by  this  time  quite  unable  to  get  rest  without 
taking  very  large  quantities  of  chloral,  and  at  times  her 
sufferings  were  such  that  it  seemed  almost  advisable  to 
give  her  morphia.  Every  one,  however,  who  brought 
intelligence  from  Gerano  agreed  in  saying  that  she  did 
her  best  to  keep  up,  and  seemed  to  dread  the  idea  of  an 
illness  which  might  keep  her  permanently  in  her  room. 


280  PIETKO   GHISLEKt. 

Whenever  she  felt  able  she  insisted  on  driving  out  and  on 
going  through  the  regular  round  of  monotonous  country 
occupations.  Her  father  and  step-mother  therefore  deter 
mined  to  go  out  and  help  Francesco  to  take  care  of  her, 
and  make  her  existence  as  bearable  as  possible.  Amongst 
all  her  friends  she  was  spoken  of  with  the  utmost  com 
passion,  and  no  one  ever  suggested  that  her  illness  could 
proceed  from  any  such  cause  as  G-hisleri  believed  to  be  at 
the  root  of  it. 

A  few  days  before  Laura  Arden  was  to  go  away  Donald 
came  to  Pietro's  room  in  the  morning,  with  a  very  grave 
face.  Lady  Herbert,  he  said,  thought  that  G-hisleri  would 
understand  why  she  did  not  write,  but  sent  Donald  in  per 
son  with  a  verbal  message.  She  was  going  away,  and 
was  about  to  give  up  the  apartment  in  which  she  had 
spent  the  winter,  without  any  intention  of  taking  it  again 
in  the  following  year.  There  were  certain  things  that 
had  belonged  to  Lord  Herbert  —  Lady  Herbert  had  no 
home  and  did  not  like  to  send  them  to  Lord  Lulworth  — 
would  Ghisleri  take  charge  of  them  in  her  absence? 
Pietro,  of  course,  assented,  and  two  hours  later  Donald 
arrived  with  a  large  carriage  load  of  boxes.  Ghisleri 
looked  on  with  a  very  unpleasant  sensation  in  his  throat 
as  his  old  friend's  effects  were  brought  up  stairs  and 
deposited  in  a  room  where  he  kept  such  things  of  his  own. 
When  they  were  all  piled  together  in  a  corner,  he  took  an 
old  green  curtain  and  covered  them  with  it,  spreading  it 
carefully  over  them  with  his  own  hands.  Then  he  locked 
the  door  and  went  away.  Some  men  and  women  when 
they  die  seem  to  leave  something  of  life  behind  them, 
which  the  mere  sight  of  anything  that  has  belonged  to 
them  has  power  to  recall  most  vividly  to  the  perceptions 
of  those  who  have  known  them  and  loved  them.  Ghis 
leri  understood  Laura  Arden's  feeling  about  her  hus 
band's  belongings.  He  knew,  or  thought  he  knew,  that 
from  the  moment  her  child  had  been  given  to  her,  she 
had  desired  that  no  material  object  should  revive  the  sor 
row  she  had  felt  so  deeply.  The  memory  she  cherished 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  281 

was  wholly  spiritual,  and  upon  its  remaining  so  her  peace 
of  mind  largely  depended.  The  one  Herbert  was  to  live 
in  the  other  —  and  there  must  not  be  two.  Not  every 
one,  perhaps,  would  have  understood  her  so  readily. 

The  day  came  for  bidding  her  good-bye.  It  was  with 
a  somewhat  heavy  heart  that  he  went  up  the  stairs  of  her 
house  for  the  last  time.  Much  of  the  little  happiness  he 
had  known  during  the  past  months  was  associated  with 
the  place  and  with  her,  and  not  a  little  of  the  sorrow  as 
well.  The  drawing-room  was  bare,  and  had  lost  the 
comfortable,  inhabited  look  which  even  a  furnished  lodg 
ing  takes  from  all  the  little  objects  a  woman  brings  to  it, 
and  which  she  alone  knows  how  to  dispose  and  arrange 
as  though  they  were  in  constant  use,  thereby  at  once 
producing  the  impression  that  the  habitation  she  has 
chosen  has  been  lived  in  long. 

Once  more  Ghisleri  sat  in  the  familiar  chair  near  the 
open  window,  and  once  more  Laura  took  her  place  in  the 
corner  of  the  great  sofa. 

"I  have  come  to  say  good-bye,"  he  began.  "You  are 
still  decided  to  go  to-morrow,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes.  I  have  not  changed  my  plans.  Please  do  not 
come  to  the  station  to  see  me  off,  nor  send  flowers,  nor 
do  any  of  the  things  which  are  generally  done.  I  would 
rather  not  see  any  one  I  know  after  leaving  this  house." 

"May  I  write  to  you?"  asked  Ghisleri. 

"Of  course.     Why  not?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  I  am  sure.  I  thought  it  better  to  ask 
you.  Some  women  hate  correspondence  except  with  their 
nearest  and  dearest.  I  will  give  you  the  news  of  Kome 
during  the  wild  gaiety  of  July  and  August." 

"  Are  you  not  going  away  at  all?  "asked  Laura,  in  some 
surprise.  "You  ought  to;  it  will  do  you  good." 

"  I  hardly  know.  I  like  to  be  alone  in  summer.  It 
gives  one  time  to  think.  One  has  a  chance  of  leading  a 
sensible  life  when  nobody  is  here  to  see.  The  days  pass 
pleasantly  —  plenty  of  reading,  a  diet  of  watermelon  and 
sherbet,  and  a  little  repentance  —  it  is  magnificent  treat 
ment  for  the  liver." 


282  PIETKO    GHISLEKI. 

Laura  looked  at  him  and  then  laughed  very  softly. 

"You  seem  amused,"  said  Ghisleri,  gravely.  "What 
I  say  is  quite  true  —  the  result  of  long  experience." 

"  I  was  not  laughing  at  what  you  said,  but  at  the  idea 
that  you  should  still  think  it  worth  while  to  make  such 
speeches  to  me." 

"If  I  can  make  you  laugh  at  all  it  is  worth  while." 

"  At  all  events,  it  is  good  of  you  to  say  so.  Which  of 
the  three  subjects  do  you  mean  to  take  for  your  letters  to 
me  —  your  reading,  your  food,  or  your  repentance?" 

"  The  food  would  be  the  simplest  and  safest  topic.  You 
can  read  for  yourself  what  you  please.  Kepentance, 
when  it  is  not  a  habit,  is  rarely  well  done.  But  one  can 
say  the  most  charming  things  about  strawberries,  peaches, 
and  figs,  without  ever  offending  any  one's  taste." 

"I  think  you  grow  worse  as  you  grow  older,"  said 
Laura,  still  smiling.  "But  if  you  would  take  your  pro 
gramme  seriously,  it  would  not  be  a  bad  thing,  I  fancy. 
Seriously,  however,  you  ought  to  get  away  from  Rome." 

"  I  should  be  tempted  to  go  and  stay  a  week  near  you, 
if  I  went  away  at  all,"  said  Ghisleri. 

Laura  did  not  answer  at  once.  She  glanced  at  him 
with  a  vague  suspicion  in  her  eyes  which  disappeared 
almost  instantly,  and  then  took  two  or  three  stitches  in 
her  embroidery  before  she  spoke. 

"  I  would  rather  you  should  not  do  that, "  she  said  at 
last.  "  I  may  as  well  tell  you  what  I  think  about  it.  To 
me,  and  to  you,  it  seems  thoroughly  absurd  that  you 
should  not  see  me  whenever  we  choose  to  meet.  There 
are  many  reasons  why  I  should  look  upon  you  as  a  friend, 
and  why  you  should  come  more  often  than  any  other  man 
I  know.  But  the  world  thinks  differently.  My  mother 
has  spoken  to  me  about  it  more  than  once,  and  in  one  way 
she  is  right.  You  know  what  a  place  this  is,  and  how 
every  one  talks  about  everybody.  Unfortunately,  I 
believe  that  you  are  one  of  the  men  about  whose  private 
affairs  society  is  most  busy.  I  cannot  help  it  now.  I 
have  no  right  to  say  anything  about  your  life,  past  or 


PIETKO    GHISLEBI.  283 

present,  but  you  have  told  me  enough  about  yourself  to 
make  me  understand  why  there  is  always  gossip  about 
you,  and  why  there  always  will  be.  Then,  too,  you  will 
never  make  people  believe  that  you  did  not  fight  that 
duel  about  me,  for  you  cannot  tell  any  one  what  you  told 
me.  The  consequence  is,  that  you  and  I  look  at  it  all 
from  one  point  of  view,  and  the  world  sees  it  from  quite 
another.  I  think  it  is  better  to  say  all  this  once,  and  to 
be  done  with  it.  As  we  shall  not  meet  for  several  months, 
people  will  forget  to  talk.  Am  I  right  to  speak  to  you?  " 
"Perfectly  right,"  answered  Ghisleri.  An  expression 
of  pain  had  settled  on  his  lean  face  while  she  had  been 
talking,  and  did  not  disappear  at  once.  Laura  saw  it  and 
was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"I  am  sorry  if  I  have  hurt  you,"  she  said  presently. 
"Perhaps  I  was  wrong." 

"No,  you  were  quite  right,"  Ghisleri  replied.  "You 
would  have  been  very  wrong  indeed  not  to  tell  me.  If 
you  did  not,  who  would?  But  I  had  no  suspicion  of  all 
this.  I  believed  that  for  once  they  might  let  me  alone, 
considering  what  you  are  —  and  what  I  am.  The  contrast 
might  protect  you  in  the  eyes  of  some  persons.  Lady 
Herbert  Arden  — and  Pietro  Ghisleri." 

He  pronounced  his  own  name  with  the  utmost  bitter 
ness. 

"Please  do  not  speak  of  yourself  in  that  way,"  said 
Laura,  with  something  like  entreaty  in  her  voice. 

"It  is  true  enough,"  he  answered.  "An  intelligent 
being  might  understand  that  I  could  be  useful  to  you,  but 
not  that  you  —  "  He  stopped  short,  and  his  tone  changed. 
"I  am  talking  nonsense,"  he  said  briefly,  by  way  of 
explaining  the  truth. 

"  I  think  you  are,  in  a  way,"  said  Laura,  quietly.  "  It 
is  your  old  habit  of  exaggeration.  You  make  me  an 
impossible  creature  between  an  archangel  and  the  good 
mamma  in  children's  story  books,  and  you  refer  to  your 
self  as  to  a  satanic  monster  whom  no  honest  woman  could 
call  her  friend.  You  are  quite  right.  It  is  sheer  non- 


284  PIETKO    GHISLERI. 

sense.  If  you  stay  in  Rome  to  repent,  as  you  suggest  in 
fun,  do  it  in  earnest.  I  am  not  talking  of  your  sins, 
which  are  not  half  so  bad  as  you  pretend,  but  of  this 
silly  view  you  insist  upon  taking  of  your  own  life.  If 
you  must  think  perpetually  of  yourself,  judge  yourself 
by  some  reasonable  standard.  You  live  in  the  world  and 
you  have  no  right  to  expect  to  find  that  you  are  a  saint. 
If  that  is  what  you  wish,  take  vows,  turn  monk,  and 
starve  yourself  up  to  heaven  if  you  can.  And  if  you 
chance  to  think  of  me,  do  not  set  me  on  a  pedestal,  and 
build  a  church  over  me,  arid  pray  at  me.  I  do  not  like 
that  sort  of  thing  —  it  is  all  unnatural  and  absurd.  I  am 
a  woman  and  nothing  else,  better  than  some  by  force  of 
circumstances,  and  not  so  good  as  some  others,  perhaps 
for  the  same  reason.  All  the  rest  that  you  imagine  is 
sentimental  trash,  and  not  worth  the  time  it  takes  you  to 
think  it.  You  will  not  be  wasting  your  summer  if  you 
can  get  rid  of  it  all  by  the  time  we  meet  in  the  autumn." 

For  once  in  his  life,  Ghisleri  was  taken  by  surprise. 
He  had  not  had  any  idea  that  Laura  could  express  herself 
so  strongly  on  any  point,  still  less  that  she  could  talk  so 
plainly  about  himself.  He  was  far  too  manly,  however, 
not  to  be  pleased,  and  his  expression  changed  as  he  lis 
tened  to  her.  She  smiled  as  she  finished,  and  began  to 
make  stitches  again. 

"No  one  ever  gave  me  so  much  good  advice  in  so  short 
a  time,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh.  "You  have  a  wonderful 
power  of  condensing  your  meaning.  Do  you  often  talk 
in  that  way?" 

"  Not  often.  I  think  I  never  did  before.  Do  you  not 
think  there  is  some  sense  in  what  I  say?" 

"Indeed,  I  begin  to  believe  that  there  is  a  great  deal," 
Ghisleri  answered.  "  At  all  events,  I  shall  not  forget  it. 
Perhaps  you  will  find  me  partially  reformed  when  you 
come  back.  You  must  promise  to  tell  me." 

"  It  will  take  me  some  time  to  find  out.  But  if  I  suc 
ceed  I  will  tell  you," 

His  mood  had  changed  for  the  better,  and  he  talked  of 


PIETRO    GHISLEEI.  285 

Laura's  plans  during  nearly  half  an  hour.  At  last  he 
rose  to  go. 

"  Good-bye, "  he  said,  rather  abruptly. 

She  looked  up  quietly  as  she  took  his  hand,  and  pressed 
it  without  affectation. 

"  Good-bye.  I  wish  you  a  very  pleasant  summer  —  and 
—  since  we  are  parting  —  I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart 
for  the  many  kind  and  friendly  things  you  have  done  for 
me." 

"I  have  done  nothing.     Good-bye,  again." 

He  turned  and  she  stood  looking  at  his  retreating  figure 
until  he  had  disappeared  through  the  door. 

"I  believe  there  is  more  good  in  that  man  than  any 
one  knows, "  she  said  to  herself.  Then  she  also  left  the 
room  and  went  to  see  whether  little  Herbert  were  awake, 
and  to  busy  herself  with  the  last  arrangements  for  his 
comfort  during  the  journey. 

Ghisleri  knew  that  another  parting  was  before  him  in 
the  near  future.  As  usual,  Maddalena  dell'  Armi  was 
going  to  spend  a  considerable  part  of  the  summer  with  her 
father  in  Tuscany.  He  went  to  see  her  tolerably  often, 
and  their  relations  had  of  late  been  to  all  appearances 
friendly  and  undisturbed.  But  he  doubted  whether  the 
final  interview  before  they  separated  for  several  months 
could  pass  off  without  some  painful  incident.  He  knew 
Maddalena' s  character  well,  and  if  he  did  not  know  his 
own,  it  was  not  for  want  of  study.  He  almost  wished 
that  he  might,  on  that  day,  choose  to  call  at  a  time  when 
some  other  person  was  present,  for  then,  of  course,  there 
could  be  no  show  of  emotion  on  either  side,  nor  any  words 
which  could  lead  to  such  weakness.  He  went  twice  to 
the  house  during  the  week  which  intervened  between 
Laura  Arden's  departure  and  the  day  fixed  for  Madda- 
lena's,  saying  each  time  that  he  would  come  again,  a 
promise  to  which  the  Contessa  seemed  indifferent  enough. 
She  would  always  be  glad  to  see  as  much  of  him  as  pos 
sible,  she  said.  The  last  day  came.  She  was  to  leave 
for  Florence  on  the  following  morning.  Ghisleri  rang, 
was  admitted,  and  found  her  alone. 


286  PIETEO   GHISLERI. 

"I  knew  you  would  come,"  she  said,  "though  it  is  so 
late." 

"Of  course.  Did  I  not  say  so?  I  suppose  you  are 
still  decided  to  go  to-morrow." 

He  was  conscious  that  he  was  saying  the  very  same 
indifferent  words  which  he  had  said  a  few  days  earlier 
to  Laura,  and  Maddalena  answered  him  almost  as  Laura 
had  done. 

"  Yes.  Of  course  you  must  not  come  to  the  station. 
That  is  understood,  is  it  not?  " 

"  Since  you  wish  it,  I  will  certainly  not  come.  So  we 
are  saying  good-bye  until  next  season,"  he  continued, 
breaking  the  ice  as  it  were,  since  he  felt  it  must  be  broken. 
"  I  will  try  and  not  be  emotional,  and  I  ask  you  to  believe 
—  this  once  —  that  I  am  in  earnest.  I  have  something  to 
say  to  you.  May  I?  Will  you  listen  to  me?  You  and 
I  cannot  part  with  two  words  and  a  nod  of  the  head,  like 
common  acquaintances." 

"  I  will  hear  all  you  care  to  say,"  answered  Maddalena, 
simply.  "And  I  will  try  to  believe  you." 

He  looked  at  the  pale  face  and  the  small,  perfect  fea 
tures  before  he  spoke,  to  see  if  they  were  as  hard  as  they 
often  were.  But  for  the  moment  the  expression  was 
softened.  The  evening  glow  played  softly  upon  the  bright 
hair,  and  threw  a  deep,  warm  light  into  the  violet  eyes, 
as  she  turned  towards  him. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked,  as  he  seemed  to  hesitate. 
"  Has  anything  happened?  Are  you  going  to  be  married?  " 

The  question  shocked  him  in  a  way  he  could  not  explain. 

"  No.  I  am  not  thinking  of  marrying.  We  have  been 
a  great  deal  to  each  other,  for  a  long  time.  But  for  my 
fault  —  and  it  is,  of  course,  my  fault  —  we  might  be  as 
much  in  one  another's  lives  as  ever.  We  used  to  meet 
in  the  summer,  but  that  will  not  happen  this  year.  When 
you  come  back,  we  may  both  be  changed  more  than  we 
think  it  possible  to  change  at  present." 

"In  what  way?" 

"  I  do  not  know.     Perhaps,  when  we  meet  again,  we 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  287 

shall  feel  that  we  are  really  and  truly  devoted  friends. 
Perhaps  you  may  hate  me  altogether  —  " 

"And  you  me." 

"No,  that  is  not  possible.  I  am  not  very  sure  of 
myself  as  a  rule.  But  that,  at  least,  I  know." 

"  I  hope  you  are  right.  If  you  are  not  my  friend,  who 
should  be?  So  you  think  I  hate  you.  You  are  very 
wrong.  I  am  still  very  fond  of  you.  I  told  you  so  the 
other  day.  You  should  believe  me.  Eemember,  when 
it  all  ended,  it  was  you  who  had  changed  —  not  I.  I  am 
not  reproaching  you.  I  might  say  that  you  should  have 
known  yourself  better  than  to  think  that  you  could  be 
faithful ;  but  you  might  tell  me  —  and  it  would  be  quite 
as  just  —  that  I,  a  woman,  knew  what  I  was  doing  and 
had  been  taught  to  look  upon  my  deeds  as  you  never 
could.  But  it  was  you  who  changed.  If  you  had  loved 
me,  I  should  have  loved  you  still.  Little  things  showed 
me  long  ago  that  your  love  was  waning.  It  was 
never  what  it  was  in  those  first  days.  And  now  I  have 
changed,  too.  I  love  what  was  once,  but  if  I  could  have 
your  love  now  as  it  was  at  its  strongest  and  best,  I  would 
not  ask  for  it.  Why  should  I?  I  could  never  trust  it 
again,  and  anything  is  better  than  that  doubt.  And  I 
want  no  consolation." 

"  Indeed,  I  should  have  very  little  to  offer  you,  worth 
your  accepting,"  said  Pietro,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  If  I  needed  any,  the  best  you  could  give  me  would 
be  what  I  ask,  —  not  as  consolation  at  all,  but  as  some 
thing  I  still  believe  worth  having  from  you,  —  and  that  is 
your  honest  friendship." 

Ghisleri  was  moved  in  spite  of  himself.  His  face  grew 
paler  and  the  shadows  showed  beneath  his  eyes  where 
Maddalena  had  so  often  seen  them. 

"  You  are  too  kind  —  too  good,"  he  said,  in  an  unsteady 
tone. 

The  last  time  he  had  said  almost  the  same  words  had 
been  when  he  made  his  first  visit  to  her  after  his  long 
illness.  Then  she  had  been  touched,  far  more  than  he. 


288  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  few  moments  and  saw  that  he 
felt  very  strongly. 

"Do  not  distress  yourself,"  she  said  gently.  "Pray 
do  not  —  it  hurts  me,  too.  I  mean  what  I  say.  I  do  not 
believe  you  can  be  faithful  in  love  now  —  to  any  one. 
You  gave  all  you  had  to  give  long  ago.  But  I  have 
watched  you  since  we  became  what  we  are  now,  and  I 
will  do  you  justice.  I  do  not  know  any  man  who  can  be 
a  more  true  and  devoted  friend.  You  see,  I  meant  what 
I  said." 

"  If  it  is  true  —  if  I  can  be  a  friend  to  any  one,  I  will  be 
one  to  you.  But  that  is  not  what  I  would  have,  if  I  could 
choose." 

"What  would  you  have,  then?" 

"What  is  impossible.  That  is  what  one  would  always 
like.  Let  us  not  talk  of  it.  It  does  no  good  to  wish  for 
what  is  beyond  wishing.  I  thank  you  for  what  you  have 
said  —  dear.  I  shall  not  forget  it.  Few  women  could  be 
so  good  as  you  are  to  me.  You  would  have  the  right  to 
be  very  different  if  you  chose." 

"  No,  I  should  not.  There  are  reasons  —  well,  as  you 
say,  let  us  not  talk  about  it.  We  have  made  up  our  minds 
to  meet  and  part  as  we  should  —  kindly  always,  lovingly 
as  friends  love,  truthfully  now,  since  there  is  nothing  left 
for  us  to  distrust." 

She  had  never  spoken  to  him  in  this  way  in  all  the 
meetings  that  had  followed  his  recovery.  He  wondered 
if  there  had  been  any  real  change  in  her  nature,  or 
whether  this  were  not  at  last  the  assertion  of  her  natural 
self.  She  spoke  so  seriously  and  quietly  that  he  could 
not  doubt  her. 

"  I  have  seen  that  you  can  act  in  that  way, "  she  con 
tinued  presently.  "  You  have  done  more  for  the  sake  of 
the  mere  memory  of  your  friend  than  many  men  would 
do  for  love  itself." 

"Not  so  much  as  I  would  do  for  the  memory  of  love," 
said  Ghisleri,  turning  his  face  away. 

"Was  it  so  sweet  as  that?"  she  asked, 


PIETEO  GHISLEEI.  289 

"Yes." 

"  And  yet  you  have  loved  better  and  longer  in  other 
days." 

"As  I  was  a  better  man,"  he  said,  finding  no  other 
answer,  for  he  knew  it  was  true. 

Maddalena  sighed.  Perhaps  she  had  hoped  that  this 
last  time  he  would  say  what  he  had  never  said  —  that  he 
had  loved  her  better  than  Bianca  Corleone. 

"You  must  have  been  different  then.".  She  spoke  a 
little  coldly,  in  spite  of  herself.  A  moment  later  she 
smiled.  "How  foolish  it  is  of  me  to  think  of  making 
comparisons,  now  that  it  is  all  over,"  she  said.  "  So  you 
are  not  coming  to  Tuscany  this  summer,  and  I  shall  not 
see  you  till  next  autumn.  Why  do  you  not  come?" 

"I  want  to  be  alone  a  long  time,"  answered  Ghisleri. 
"  It  is  much  better.  I  am  bad  company,  and  besides,  I 
am  not  strong  enough  to  wander  about  the  world  yet.  I 
need  a  long  rest." 

"  It  seems  so  strange  to  think  of  you  as  not  being  strong. " 

"  Yes  —  I  who  used  to  be  so  proud  of  my  strength.  I 
believe  that  was  my  greatest  vanity  when  I  was  very 
young." 

"  How  full  of  contradictions  you  are ! "  Maddalena 
exclaimed,  as  she  had  often  done  before. 

Ghisleri  said  nothing,  for  he  knew  it  better  than  she 
could.  It  was  growing  late,  for  the  sun  had  gone  down 
and  the  twilight  deepened  in  the  room.  He  rose  to  go, 
and  took  her  hand  as  she  stood  up  beside  him. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said,  almost  in  a  whisper.  "May  God 
forgive  me,  and  bless  you  —  always." 

"  Good-bye  —  dear." 

He  went  out.  It  had  been  a  strange  meeting,  and  the 
parting  was  stranger  still.  Very  often,  throughout  the 
long  summer  months  which  followed,  Ghisleri  thought  of 
it,  recalling  every  word  and  gesture  of  the  woman  who 
had  loved  him  so  deeply,  and  for  whom  he  had  nothing 
left  but  the  poor  friendship  she  was  so  ready  to  accept. 
But  that  at  least  he  could  give  her,  kindly,  lovingly,  and 

u 


290  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

truthfully,  as  she  herself  had  said,  and  he  was  grateful  to 
her  for  asking  it  of  him,  though  no  kindness  of  hers  could 
heal  the  wound  he  had  given  himself  in  injuring  her.  He 
thought  less  harshly  of  the  world  for  half  a  year  or  so 
after  that  day,  and  began  to  believe  that  it  might  not  be 
so  abominable  a  place  as  he  had  sometimes  been  inclined 
to  think  it. 

He  wrote  to  Maddalena  from  time  to  time,  short  letters, 
which  said  little,  but  which  she  was  glad  to  receive  and 
which  she  often  answered  in  the  same  strain,  with  a  small 
chronicle  of  small  doings  made  to  bear  the  weight  of  a 
sweeping  comment  now  and  then.  Little  enough  of  inter 
est  there  was  in  any  of  those  epistles,  but  there  was  a 
general  tone  in  them  which  assured  each  that  the  other 
had  not  forgotten  that  last  meeting. 

G-hisleri  did  not  write  to  Laura,  though  he  could  hardly 
have  told  why,  especially  as  he  had  spoken  of  doing  so. 
Possibly  he  felt  that  she  would  not  understand  him 
through  a  letter  as  she  did  when  they  were  face  to  face, 
and  he  feared  to  make  a  bad  impression. 

Of  Adele  Savelli  he  had  news  often,  through  people 
who  were  in  intimate  correspondence  with  her  and  with 
her  step-mother,  who  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  sum 
mer  at  Gerano.  From  all  accounts  she  had  begun  to 
improve  with  the  warm  weather,  and  though  she  still 
looked  ill  and  greatly  changed  from  her  former  self,  she 
was  said  to  be  very  much  better.  It  was  commonly 
reported  that  morphia  had  saved  her,  and  it  was  whis 
pered  that  she  was  a  slave  to  it  in  consequence.  Ghisleri 
cared  very  little.  He  had  almost  given  up  the  idea  that 
she  had  been  concerned  in  bringing  on  Arden's  illness, 
and  even  if  he  sometimes  still  thought  she  had  been,  he 
saw  the  impossibility  of  going  any  further  than  he  had 
gone  already  in  the  attempt  to  discover  the  truth. 


PIETIiO   GHISLERI.  291 


CHAPTER   XXL 

BEFORE  attempting  to  chronicle  the  events  which  were 
the  ultimate  consequences  of  those  already  described,  it 
will  be  necessary  to  explain  how  it  was  that  very  little 
worth  recording  occurred  during  nearly  three  years  after 
the  day  on  which  Pietro  Ghisleri  said  good-bye  to  the 
Contessa  dell'  Armi,  when  she  was  going  to  make  her 
customary  visit  to  her  father. 

In  the  natural  course  of  things,  every  one  returned  in 
the  following  autumn,  in  more  or  less  lively  expectation 
of  the  season  to  come.  Laura  Arden  expected  nothing  of 
it,  in  the  way  of  amusement,  nor  did  she  look  forward  to 
anything  of  the  sort  in  her  life  as  possible  for  many 
seasons  to  come. 

Maddalena  delP  Armi,  on  the  other  hand,  expected 
much,  and  was,  on  the  whole,  disappointed.  Ghisleri 
had  grown  indifferent  to  such  a  degree  as  to  be  almost 
unrecognizable  to  his  friends.  He  went  out  very  little, 
and  was  said  to  be  busy  with  some  speculation  in  which 
he  was  ruining  himself,  but  of  which,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  he  had  never  even  heard.  Adele  Savelli  went  every 
where,  thin,  nervous,  and  careworn,  and  apparently 
driven  to  death  by  the  necessity  for  excitement.  There 
were  people  who  said  she  was  going  mad,  and  others  who 
said  she  lived  on  morphia  and  that  it  must  ultimately 
kill  her.  The  division  of  opinions  concerning  the  nature 
of  her  malady  still  existed,  and  the  wildest  stories  were 
sent  adrift  at  a  venture  down  the  dangerous  rapids  of 
conversation.  Donna  Adele  had  quarrelled  about  Laura 
with  her  father,  who  had  disinherited  her  as  far  as  he 
was  able,  and  she  led  a  life  of  daily  torment  in  Casa 
Savelli  in  consequence.  That  was  one  of  the  tales.  Then 
it  was  stated  that  Francesco's  passion  for  Laura  Arden 
had  suddenly  developed  to  heroic  proportions,  and  that 
his  wife  was  eating  her  heart  out.  Thirdly,  there  was  a 


292 


PIETRO   GHISLERI. 


party  which  asserted  confidently  that  Adele  herself  was 
m  love  with  Pietro  Ghisleri,  who  did  not  even  take  the 
trouble  to  go  and  see  her  more  than  once  or  twice  a  month. 
The  only  point  upon  which  opinion  was  unanimous  was 
Laura  Arden's  personal  and  undivided  responsibility  for 
all  the  evil  that  happened  to  Adele  Savelli.  In  the  first 
year,  so  long  as  Laura  never  went  into  the  world,  the 
reputation  society  had  given  her  harmed  her  very  little, 
and  but  for  the  extremely  thoughtful  kindness  of  one  or 
two  communicative  friends,  she  might  have  remained  in 
ignorance  of  it  altogether.  As  it  was,  she  was  indiffer 
ent,  except  when  she  was  amused  by  the  still  current 
accusation  of  possessing  the  evil  eye. 

That  Laura  was  an  undoubted  and  dangerous  jettatrice 
was  now  commonly  accepted  as  a  matter  of  fact.     Since 
Ghisleri  and  Campodonico  had  fought,  the  men  had  been 
circumspect  in  their  remarks,  but  there  were  few  who 
did  not  make  the  sign  when  they  saw  her  go  by.     If  any 
thing  had  been  needed  to  prove  the  fact,  there  was  the 
issue  of  the  duel.     The  man  who  had  taken  Laura's  side 
had  nearly  lost  his  life,  though  he  had  fought  several 
times  previously  without  ever  receiving  any  serious  hurt. 
That  was   proof  positive.     Adele's   illness,    too,   dated 
almost  from  the  day  of  her  reconciliation  with  Laura, 
and  seemed  likely  to  end  fatally.     Then,  almost  at  the 
same  time,  the  Contessa  had  broken  with  Ghisleri  in  the 
most  heartless  way,  as  the  world  said.     For  the  world 
knew  something  about  that,  too,  and  could  have  told  the 
whole  story  most  exactly  as  it  had  never  happened,  and 
detailed  several  conversations  accurately  which  had  never 
taken  place.     Poor  Ghisleri !     The  world  pitied  him  sin 
cerely,  and  hated  Laura  Arden  for  being  the  evil-eyed 
cause  of  all  his  misfortunes.     How  could  he  still  go  to 
see  her,  knowing,   as  he  must,  how  dangerous  it  was? 
Had  she  not  almost  killed  him  and  Adele,  as  well  as  quite 
killing  her  husband?     People  who  touched  Laura  Arden's 
hand  would  do  well  to  shut  themselves  up  and  lie  safe  at 
home  for  four  and  twenty  hours,  until  the  power  of  the 


PIETRO   GHISLEKI.  293 

jettatura  was  past.     Those  black  eyes  of  hers  meant  no 
good  to  any  one,  in  spite  of  her  inspired,  nun-like  looks. 

All  these  things  were  said,  repeated,  affirmed,  denied, 
discussed,  and  said  again  in  the  perpetual  vicious  circle 
of  gossip,  while  the  persons  most  concerned  lived  their 
own  lives  almost  altogether  undisturbed  by  the  reports 
affecting  them.  No  one  refused  to  bow  to  Laura  Arden 
in  the  street,  although  she  was  supposed  to  have  the  power 
of  bringing  murder,  pestilence,  and  sudden  death  on  those 
who  went  too  near  her.  Nobody  ventured  to  condole  with 
Adele  Savelli  upon  her  husband's  flighty  conduct,  still 
less  upon  the  supposed  loss  to  her  of  half  the  Gerano 
estate.  Nor  did  any  one  express  to  Ghisleri  anything 
like  sympathy  for  having  been  so  abominably  treated  by 
the  Contessa.  Such  frankness  would  have  been  repre 
hensible  and  tactless  in  the  extreme. 

Adele  Savelli's  existence  was  in  reality  far  more 
wretched  than  any  one  could  have  supposed  at  that  time, 
and  it  was  destined  to  be  made  yet  more  miserable  before 
a  second  year  had  elapsed. 

In  the  spring  of  the  year  following  that  described  in 
the  last  chapter,  the  Contessa  delP  Armi  surprised  Ghis 
leri  with  a  very  startling  piece  of  news.  They  were  talk 
ing  together  in  the  grand  stand  at  one  of  the  May  races. 

"  You  know  I  always  tell  you  everything  I  hear  that 
seems  to  be  of  any  importance, "  she  said.  "  We  generally 
know  what  to  believe.  I  heard  a  story  last  night  which 
is  so  very  odd  that  there  may  be  some  truth  in  it.  As  it 
may  be  nothing  but  a  bit  of  mischief,  I  will  not  name  the 
person  who  told  me.  It  is  said  that  more  than  a  year 
ago,  when  Adele  Savelli  thought  she  was  dying  out  at 
Gerano,  she  did  not  wish  to  confess  to  the  parish  priest, 
whom  she  had  known  all  her  life,  and  so  she  wrote  out  a 
general  confession  and  sent  it  to  a  priest  here  in  Kome. 
Is  that  possible,  do  you  think?" 

"  Such  things  have  been  done,"  answered  Ghisleri.  "  I 
do  not  know  what  the  rule  is  about  them,  but  the  case  is 
possible." 


294  PIETEO   GHISLEKI. 

"I  was  not  sure.  Now  they  say  that  this  confession 
of  Adele's  never  reached  its  destination,  and  that  a  copy 
of  it,  if  not  the  original,  is  in  circulation  in  society,  pass 
ing  quietly  from  hand  to  hand.  That  is  a  strange  story, 
is  it  not?" 

"A  very  strange  story."  Pietro's  face  was  grave,  for 
he  remembered  many  circumstances  which  this  tale  might 
explain.  "And  what  is  the  confession  said  to  contain?  " 
he  asked,  after  a  pause. 

"  Some  extraordinary  revelations  about  Adele's  social 
career;  it  is  even  hinted  that  there  is  something  which 
might  bring  very  serious  consequences  upon  her  if  it  were 
known,  though  what  it  is  no  one  can  find  out.  That  is 
what  I  heard,  and  I  thought  it  worth  while  to  tell  you. 
I  think,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  that  I  shall  deny  it. 
It  looks  improbable  enough,  on  the  face  of  it.  One  need 
not  say  that  its  very  improbability  makes  one  think  it 
cannot  be  all  an  invention." 

"  No.  I  think  you  are  wise  —  and  charitable  as  well. 
If  there  is  any  truth  in  it,  Donna  Adele  will  have  another 
illness  when  it  reaches  her  ears.  I  suppose  people  have 
not  failed  to  say  that  it  was  Lady  Herbert  who  had  the 
confession  stolen  through  a  servant." 

"Strange  to  say,  no  one  has  said  that  yet,  but  they 
will,"  added  Maddalena,  with  conviction.  "Here  comes 
Savelli  —  take  care !  Will  you  put  fifty  francs  for  me 
on  the  next  race?  Here  is  the  note." 

There  was  no  exaggeration  in  the  Contessa's  account. 
The  story  was  actually  in  circulation,  if  the  lost  confes 
sion  was  not.  Unlike  the  majority  of  such  tales,  how 
ever,  this  one  was  not  openly  repeated  or  commented  upon 
where  more  than  two  people  were  present.  It  disappeared 
and  reappeared  in  unexpected  places  like  the  river 
Alpheus  of  old,  but  its  shape  was  not  materially  changed. 
It  was  told  in  whispers  and  under  terrible  oaths  of  secrecy, 
and  occasionally  —  very  rarely,  indeed  —  the  mere  word 
"  Confession,"  spoken  in  casual  conversation,  made  people 
smile  and  look  at  each  other.  There  was  not  even  a 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  295 

scandalous  little  paragraph  in  any  of  the  daily  papers, 
referring  to  it.     For  there  are  moments  when  society  can 
keep  its  secrets,  strangely  communicative  as  it  is  at  other 
times.     The   houses   of   Savelli   and   Gerano   were   too 
important  and,  in  a  way,  too  powerful  still,  to  be  care 
lessly  attacked.    Indeed,  society  very  much  preferred  that 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other  should  be  attacked  at  all, 
and  behaved  so  carefully  in  this  one  instance,  that  it  was 
very  long  before  any  one  discovered  that  a  few  weeks 
before  the  rumour  had  been  set  afloat  Francesco  Savelli 
had  himself  summarily  dismissed  Adele's  maid  for  the 
really  serious  offence  of  helping  her  mistress  to  procure 
more  morphia  than  the  doctor's  orders  allowed.     It  was 
longer  still  before  any  one  knew  that  the  maid's  name 
was  Lucia,  and  that  she  had  immediately  found  a  situa 
tion  with  Donna  Maria  Boccapaduli.     What  was  never 
known  to  the  public  at  all  was  that  when  Savelli  sent  her 
out  of  the  house,  Lucia  had  threatened  to  make  certain 
revelations  injurious  to  the  family  if  he  persisted,  but 
that  Francesco  had  not  paid  the  slightest  attention  to  the 
menace,  nor  even  spoken  of  it  to  his  wife.     He  was  self 
ish,  cold,  and  was  very  far  from  admirable  as  a  man,  but 
he  had  been  brought  up  in  good  traditions,  and  had  the 
instincts  of  a  gentleman  when  his  own  comfort  was  not 
endangered  by  them. 

All  Ghisleri's  suspicions  revived  at  the  news  Madda- 
lena  gave  him.  Again  he  took  down  the  medical  work 
he  had  consulted  on  the  evening  when  the  idea  that  Adele 
was  in  some  way  guilty  of  Arden's  death  had  first  flashed 
across  his  mind,  more  than  a  year  previously.  Again  he 
read  the  chapter  on  scarlet  fever  carefully  from  beginning 
to  end,  and  sat  down  to  think  over  the  possibilities  in 
such  a  case,  and  once  more,  after  several  days  of  serious 
consideration,  he  grew  sceptical,  and  abandoned  the 
attempt  to  fathom  the  mystery,  if  mystery  there  were. 
He  knew  that  even  without  that,  Adele  might  have  writ 
ten  many  things  to  her  confessor  in  confidence  which,  if 
repeated  openly  in  the  world,  would  do  her  terrible  harm. 


296  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

He  was  quite  sure  that  all  the  infamous  slanders  on 
Laura  and  her  husband  could  ultimately  be  traced  to 
Adele  alone,  and  it  was  possible  that  the  stolen  document 
contained  a  full  account  of  them,  though  how  any  sane 
person  could  be  rash  enough  to  trust  such  a  statement  to 
the  post  was  beyond  Ghisleri's  comprehension.  He  did 
not  know  that  Adele  had  hardly  been  responsible  for  her 
actions  on  that  day  and  on  many  succeeding  ones.  He 
had  seen,  while  at  Gerano,  that  she  was  far  from  well, 
but  she  had  been  apparently  in  full  possession  of  her 
senses.  That  she  should  have  entrusted  to  paper  the  con 
fession  that  she  had  wilfully  and  successfully  attempted 
to  make  Herbert  Arden  catch  the  scarlet  fever  in  her  own 
house,  he  could  not  believe,  though  he  thought  it  possible 
that  the  crime  might  have  actually  been  committed. 

He  saw  strong  reasons  for  thinking  that  the  confession 
had  either  been  destroyed,  or  had  never  really  been 
shown,  but  that  some  third  person  had  known  something 
of  its  contents  and  had  perhaps  betrayed  the  knowledge 
in  a  fit  of  anger.  The  Contessa  dell'  Armi  could  never 
tell  him  anything  further  than  she  had  communicated  at 
the  races,  and  she,  as  he  knew,  was  intimate  with  many 
who  would  be  acquainted  with  all  the  current  gossip. 
Strange  to  say,  the  story  neither  developed  nor  changed; 
and  contrary  to  his  expectations  and  to  Maddalena's  own, 
no  one  ever  suggested  that  Lady  Herbert  Arden  had  been 
instrumental  in  causing  the  confession  to  be  stolen.  The 
men  did  not  talk  about  the  story  at  all,  or,  at  least,  no 
one  ever  hinted  at  it  when  Ghisleri  was  present. 

Laura  saw  him  often  during  that  winter,  though  not 
so  regularly  as  in  the  first  months  which  had  succeeded 
her  husband's  death.  It  was  evident  to  Pietro  that  the 
Princess  was  seriously  disturbed  by  his  frequent  visits 
to  her  daughter,  and  he  willingly  restricted  them  rather 
than  give  offence  to  the  elderly  lady.  As  was  to  be 
expected,  he  gradually  became  more  intimate  with  Laura 
as  time  went  on.  There  were  strong  bonds  of  friendship 
between  them,  and  the  elements  of  a  deep  sympathy. 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  297 

On  more  than  one  occasion  each  had  spoken  to  the  other 
the  whole  thoughts  of  the  moment,  as  people  like  them 
selves  rarely  speak  to  more  than  one  or  two  persons  who 
come  into  their  lives.  Ghisleri  felt  that  Laura  was  tak 
ing  the  place  of  everything  in  his  existence  for  which  he 
had  formerly  cared,  and  the  thought  of  love  for  any 
woman  had  never  been  so  far  from  him  as  during  that 
year  and  the  following  summer.  He  began  to  take  a 
pleasure  in  small  things  that  concerned  her,  which  he 
had  rarely  found  in  the  great  emotions  of  his  former  life. 
Occasionally,  when  he  was  in  a  bad  temper,  he  sneered 
at  himself  and  said  that  he  was  growing  old,  and  was  only 
fit  to  be  the  guardian  of  distressed  widows  and  fatherless 
children.  But  in  spite  of  such  moments,  he  was  some 
times  conscious  of  something  not  unlike  happiness,  and 
he  was,  on  the  whole,  far  more  cheerful  and  less  discon 
tented  with  himself  than  he  had  formerly  been. 

"It  is  the  calm  before  the  storm,"  he  said  to  Laura 
one  day,  with  a  laugh.  "  Something  appalling  is  going 
to  happen  to  me  before  long." 

"  I  do.  not  bellove  it, "  she  answered,  confidently.  "  You 
have  lived  sucn  an  existence  of  excitement  for  so  many 
years,  that  you  cannot  understand  what  peace  means  now 
that  you  have  tried  it.  Of  course  if  you  go  in  search  of 
emotions  again,  you  will  find  them.  They  grow  on  every 
bush,  and  are  as  cheap  as  blackberries." 

Laura  laughed  a  little,  too,  as  she  made  the  reply. 
She  thought  much  of  Ghisleri  now,  and  she  could  hardly 
realise  what  her  life  would  be  without  him.  Little  Her 
bert  first,  then  her  mother,  then  Pietro  —  so  the  three 
stood  in  their  respective  order  when  she  thought  of  her 
rather  lonely  position  in  the  world.  For  she  was  very 
lonely,  even  when  Arden  had  been  dead  eighteen  months 
or  more.  Her  old  acquaintances  rarely  came  to  see  her, 
and  when  they  did  there  was  a  constraint  in  their  manner 
which  told  of  fear,  or  dislike,  or  both.  The  idle  tale  of 
the  evil  eye  which  she  had  so  heartily  despised  once  upon 
a  time  had  done  its  work.  In  the  following  year,  when, 


298  PIETKO   GHISLERI. 

in  the  natural  course  of  events,  she  would  have  gone  out 
occasionally  in  a  very  quiet  way,  she  found  herself  almost 
cut  off  from  society. 

Even  then  she  did  not  care  so  much  as  might  have  been 
expected.  But  her  mother  was  in  despair.  She  and  the 
Prince  constantly  had  Laura  to  dine  with  them,  and 
always  asked  at  the  same  time  two  or  three  friends  with 
whom  she  had  formerly  been  more  or  less  intimate.  But 
when  it  became  known  that  "  to  dine  quite  informally  " 
meant  that  the  person  invited  was  to  meet  Laura  Arden, 
it  became  very  hard  to  find  evenings  when  an}r  one  chanced 
to  be  free  to  accept  an  invitation  to  the  Palazzo  Braccio. 
Incredible  as  it  may  seem,  Laura  was  almost  ostracised. 
No  one  who  has  not  seen  the  social  ruin  which  such  a 
reputation  as  hers  brings  with  it,  could  believe  how  com 
plete  it  can  be.  Ghisleri  ground  his  teeth  in  impotent 
anger  against  the  stupid  and  cruel  superstition  which 
possessed  his  fellow-citizens,  and  which  in  a  year  or  two 
would  inevitably  drive  Laura  to  leave  Rome,  as  it  had 
driven  others  before  then.  He  could  do  nothing,  for  the 
thing  was  never  mentioned  before  him,  and  moreover  he 
would  be  far  more  careful  now  than  he  had  ever  been 
not  to  be  drawn  into  a  quarrel  on  Laura's  account. 

For  he  was  well  aware  that  his  position  towards  her 
was  anomalous  and  might  very  easily  be  misunderstood 
in  a  society  where  almost  all  were  prejudiced  against  her. 
He  supposed  that  the  world  expected  him  to  marry  her 
when  a  little  more  time  had  passed,  and  he  knew  that 
nothing  was  further  from  his  thoughts.  It  was  at  this 
time,  just  two  years  after  Herbert  Arden' s  death,  that  he 
began  to  torment  himself,  perhaps  with  better  reason 
than  in  former  days.  Knowing  as  he  did  what  might 
be  said,  and  what  in  all  likelihood  was  said  about  his 
friendship  for  Laura,  the  advisability  of  discontinuing 
his  visits  almost  altogether  presented  itself  for  considera 
tion,  and  would  not  be  summarily  annihilated  by  any 
specious  argument.  It  had  formerly  seemed  to  him 
treacherous  even  to  think  of  loving  Arden's  wife,  though 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  299 

the  thought  had  rarely  crossed  his  mind  even  as  the 
wildest  hypothesis  until  some  time  after  his  friend  had 
been  dead  and  buried.  It  now  seemed  as  impossible  as 
ever  to  love  her,  but  he  was  obliged  by  the  commonest  of 
common  sense  considerations  to  admit  that  such  an  affec 
tion  would  not  imply  the  smallest  breach  of  faith  to 
Arden's  memory.  She  was  a  widow,  and  any  man  who 
knew  her  had  a  right  to  love  her  and  to  ask  her  hand  if 
he  so  pleased.  That  right,  then,  was  his  also,  if  ever  he 
should  need  to  avail  himself  of  it.  But  it  was  precisely 
because  he  did  not  love  Laura  Arden  that  the  doubt  as 
to  his  own  conduct  arose.  As  he  had  no  intention  of 
asking  her  to  marry  him,  could  he  and  should  he  put  her  in 
such  a  position  as  to  favour  speculation  in  regard  to  her? 
Unquestionably  he  should  not.  But  in  that  case,  what 
was  he  to  do?  The  old,  ignoble,  worldly  instinct  told 
him  to  create  a  diversion  by  causing  gossip  in  other 
directions,  where  scandal  would  be  easily  manufactured, 
and  then  to  procure  himself  the  liberty  of  doing  what  he 
pleased  behind  the  world's  back,  so  to  say.  But  to  his 
credit  it  must  be  admitted  that  he  did  not  entertain  the 
idea  for  a  moment.  It  disgusted  him  and  he  sought  for 
a  solution  elsewhere,  trying,  in  his  imagination,  every 
conceivable  expedient  by  which  he  fancied  that  he  might 
enjoy  Laura's  society  without  compromising  her  in  any 
way.  In  such  cases,  however,  it  is  hard  to  find  a  strata 
gem  which  shall  at  once  satisfy  the  exigencies  of  the 
situation,  and  an  honest  man's  conscience  and  sense  of 
honour.  He  had  long  given  up  the  custom  of  going 
to  see  Laura  every  other  day,  and  when  she  was  at  her 
mother's  house  he  was  rarely  invited,  on  account  of  the 
Princess's  prejudice  against  him,  and  which  no  good  con 
duct  on  his  part  seemed  capable  of  destroying.  To  give 
up  seeing  Laura  altogether  was  a  sacrifice  so  great  that 
he  did  not  feel  strong  enough  to  make  it;  nor,  perhaps, 
would  Laura  herself  have  understood  it.  Yet,  unless  he 
kept  away  from  her  for  a  long  time,  he  knew  that  the  all- 
wise  world  would  continue  to  say  that  he  saw  her  every 


300  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

day.  The  more  he  thought  about  it,  the  harder  he  found 
it  to  come  to  any  decision.  Considering  the  terms  on 
which  he  now  saw  her,  and  that  in  former  times  they  had 
more  than  once  spoken  of  the  same  matter,  he  at  last 
reluctantly  resolved  to  lay  the  question  before  her,  and 
to  let  her  decide  what  he  should  do.  He  hated  to  ask 
advice  of  any  one,  and  he  detested  even  the  appearance 
of  shifting  responsibility  upon  another.  But  he  could 
see  no  other  way. 

Laura  found  it  as  hard  to  come  to  a  determination  as 
he  had.  During  the  last  six  months  he  had  become 
almost  a  necessary  part  of  her  life,  and  she  would  have 
turned  to  him  as  naturally  as  he  now  turned  to  her  for 
counsel  in  any  difficult  situation.  Her  own  character 
was  too  simple  and  straightforward  to  demand  the  elab 
orate  explanations  of  the  nature  of  friendship,  which  he 
required  of  himself;  but  when  he  put  the  difficulty  before 
her  she  saw  it  plainly  enough. 

"For  myself,  I  am  perfectly  indifferent,"  she  said  at 
last.  "  I  do  not  see  why  I  should  sacrifice  anything  be 
cause  there  are  people  bad  enough  to  imagine  evil  where 
there  is  none.  You  and  I  need  no  justification  of  our 
friendship,  and  as  I  cannot  see  that  I,  at  least,  am  much 
in  debt  to  the  world,  it  is  not  clear  to  me  why  I  should 
care  what  it  says.  But  I  have  to  consider  my  mother." 

"  And  yourself,  in  spite  of  what  you  say, "  answered 
Ghisleri.  "You  yourself  are  first  —  your  mother  next." 

"Of  course  you,  as  a  man,  look  at  it  in  that  light. 
But  if  it  were  not  for  my  mother,  do  not  imagine  that 
I  should  take  any  notice  of  what  people  choose  to  say. 
They  have  said  such  vile  things  of  me  already  that  they 
can  hardly  invent  anything  worse.  If  it  were  perfectly 
indifferent  to  you,  I  do  not  say  but  that  I  might  prefer 
to  be  careful." 

"If  what  were  indifferent?"  asked  Ghisleri,  who  did 
not  understand  the  rather  enigmatic  speech. 

"  If  you  were  quite  an  indifferent  person  to  me  —  which 
you  are  not." 


PIETRO    GHISLEKI.  301 

Her  eyes  met  his  frankly,  and  she  smiled  as  she  spoke. 
There  was  not  a  trace  of  timidity  or  shyness  in  the  speech. 
She  had  no  reason  whatever  for  concealing  the  fact  that 
she  liked  him.  But  he,  on  his  part,  experienced  an  odd 
sensation,  the  meaning  of  which  was  by  no  means  clear 
to  him.  He  could  not  have  told  whether  it  partook  more 
of  satisfaction  or  of  disappointment,  but  it  was  a  distinct 
emotion  of  a  kind  which  he  had  never  expected  to  feel  in 
her  presence. 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  me,"  he  said.  "  I  should  be  very 
unhappy  if'  you  did  not.  I  value  your  friendship  more 
than  anything  in  the  world." 

"  You  have  earned  it  if  ever  a  man  did, "  she  answered. 

"  It  is  enough  that  I  have  it.  I  do  not  know  how  I  have 
deserved  anything  half  so  precious." 

"  I  know  more  of  what  you  have  done  for  me  than  you 
suppose,"  said  Laura.  "Never  mind  that.  The  facts 
are  simple  enough.  We  are  good  friends;  we  depend, 
for  a  certain  amount  of  happiness,  upon  seeing  one  another 
often ;  because  the  world  does  not  understand,  it  expects 
us  to  sacrifice  our  inclinations.  For  my  part,  I  refuse. 
There  is  only  one  person  to  be  consulted  —  my  mother, 
who  is  dearer  to  me  than  any  friend  can  be.  I  will  speak 
to  her  and  make  her  see  the  truth.  In  the  mean  time  do 
nothing,  and  forget  all  this  absurd  complication.  It  is 
only  the  unreal  shadow  of  an  artificial  morality  which 
has  no  foundation  nor  true  existence  whatever.  You 
know  that  better  than  I." 

G-hisleri  laughed. 

"  When  you  choose  to  express  yourself  strongly,  you 
do  not  lack  force,"  he  said.  "In  the  old  days  I  used  to 
fancy  that  if  you  spoke  out  plainly,  your  sentiments  would 
take  the  form  of  a  prayer,  or  a  hymn,  or  something  of 
that  sort." 

"I  am  much  more  human  than  you  think  me,"  Laura 
answered.  "1  told  you  so  once,  and  you  would  not 
believe  me." 

Laura  therefore  took  the  matter  into  her  own  hands, 


302  PIETKO   GHISLERI. 

and  spoke  to  her  mother  about  it.     But  the  Princess  was 
not  easily  persuaded,  and  when  the  summer  came  the  two 
were  still  at  variance.     A  woman  like  Laura's  mother  is 
hard  to  move  when  she  has  allowed  a  prejudice  to  take 
firm  root  in  her  mind,  and  becomes  altogether  obstinate 
when  that  prejudice  is  tolerably  well  founded.     It  was 
an  unquestionable  fact  that  Ghisleri  had  always  been 
considered    a    dangerous   and   rather   fast   man,    whose 
acquaintance  did  not  improve  a  woman's  reputation,  and 
the  Princess  of  Gerano  had  no  means  of  understanding 
his  real  character.     It  was  a  constant  wonder  to  her  that 
Laura  should  like  him.     The  excellent  lady  never  at  all 
realised  that  the  blood  of  poor  Jack  Carlyon  was  in  his 
daughter's  veins,  and  that,  sooner  or  later,  it  might  make 
itself  felt  and  produce  rather  unexpected  results.     Carl- 
yon's  chief  characteristic  had  been  his  recklessness  of 
consequences.     If  the  Princess  had  remembered  that,  she 
would  have  understood  better  why  Laura  had  married 
Herbert  Arden  in  spite  of  his  deformities,  and  why  she 
made  an  intimate  friend  of  Pietro  Ghisleri  in  spite  of  his 
reputation.     But  Laura  had  never  shown  any  subversive 
tendencies  in  childhood  or  early  youth,  and  her  fearless 
truthfulness,  her  rather  melancholy  and  meditative  nature 
when  a  young  girl,  and  her  really  charitable  heart  had 
combined  with  her  pale  beauty  and  saintly  eyes  to  make 
her  mother  suppose  her  infinitely  more  submissive,  obe 
dient,  and  nun-like  than  she  actually  was.     After  long 
and  patient  discussion  Laura  turned  rather  suddenly. 

"  I  am  not  a  child,  mother, "  she  said.  "  I  know  Signor 
Ghisleri  very  much  better  than  you,  and  better  than  most 
people  can.  I  know  enough  of  his  past  life  to  understand 
that,  although  he  has  done  many  foolish  things  and  some 
cruel  ones,  he  is  not  what  I  call  a  bad  man,  and  he  has 
changed  very  much  for  the  better  during  the  last  two  years. 
I  will  not  give  up  his  friendship  for  the  sake  of  pleasing 
a  set  of  people  who  do  not  even  pretend  to  like  me." 

"Laura,  Laura,  take  care!  You  are  falling  in  love 
with  that  man,  and  he  is  not  fit  to  be  your  husband." 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  303 

"  In  love?  "  Laura's  deep  eyes  flashed  angrily,  for  the 
first  time  in  her  mother's  recollection  of  her.  "  You  do 
not  know  what  you  are  saying,  mother." 

The  Princess  sighed,  and  turned  her  face  away.  She 
attributed  the  extraordinary  change  in  her  daughter  to 
G-hisleri's  bad  influence,  and  her  prejudice  against  him 
increased  accordingly.  She  could  not  see  that  the  girl 
had  developed  in  the  course  of  years  into  a  fully  grown 
woman  whose  character  had  not  turned  out  to  be  what 
she  had  expected. 

And  Laura  was  very  angry  at  the  suggestion  that  she 
could  possibly  love  Ghisleri  —  quite  unjustifiably  so,  her 
mother  considered.  But  here,  again,  the  elder  woman 
did  the  younger  an  injustice.  Love  was  very  far  from 
Laura's  thoughts  just  then,  though  her  friendship  for 
Pietro  was  assuming  an  importance  it  had  not  had  before. 

She  did  not  speak  again  for  some  minutes,  and  when 
she  did,  she  spoke  quietly  and  without  any  show  of  anger. 
Her  tone  was  not  hard,  nor  was  anything  she  said  either 
cutting  or  defiant,  but  the  Princess  felt  that  there  was  to 
be  no  appeal  from  the  verdict. 

"Dearest  mother,"  she  said,  "I  never  did  anything 
and  I  never  will  do  anything  with  the  intention  of 
displeasing  or  hurting  you.  But  I  have  my  own  life  to 
lead,  and  my  own  responsibilities  to  bear,  in  my  own 
way.  There  are  some  things  in  which  I  must  judge  for 
myself,  and  one  of  them  is  in  the  matter  of  choosing  my 
friends." 

"  If  you  had  chosen  any  one  but  that  wild  Ghisleri !  " 
sighed  the  Princess. 

"  A  man  who  knew  him  better  than  either  you  or  I  can, 
loved  him  dearly,  and  when  he  was  dying  bade  him  take 
care  of  me.  The  promise  then  made  has  been  faithfully 
kept.  I  will  not  shut  my  door  to  my  husband's  old  friend, 
who  has  become  mine,  merely  because  the  world  is  what 
it  is  —  a  liar,  an  evil  speaker,  and  a  slanderer." 

Laura  was  a  little  pale,  and  the  lids  drooped  over  her 
eyes  as  though  to  hide  something  she  would  not  show. 


304  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  spoken  of  Herbert  Arden 
since  her  child  had  been  born. 

If  the  world  had  been  aware  that  the  matter  of  her 
intimacy  with  Ghisleri  had  been  under  discussion,  it 
would  have  been  much  delighted  by  her  decision.  It 
would  really  have  been  too  unkind  of  Laura  to  deprive 
it  of  a  subject  of  conversation  full  of  never-flagging  inter 
est.  For  not  a  day  passed  without  a  reference  to  Pietro's 
devotion  to  her,  and  the  reference  was  rarely  made  with 
out  a  dash  of  spite  and  a  little  flavouring  of  social  venom. 
Laura  was  not  to  be  forgiven  for  having  made  Ghisleri 
prefer  her  company  to  that  of  a  score  of  other  women,  all, 
in  their  own  estimation,  as  good-looking  as  she,  and  infi 
nitely  more  agreeable. 

Ghisleri  himself  accepted  the  situation,  since  Laura 
wished  him  to  do  so,  though  he  was  constantly  uneasy 
about  his  own  position.  It  seemed  to  him  that  if  there 
were  the  slightest  danger  of  giving  colour  to  any  serious 
slander  on  her  name  it  must  be  his  duty  to  disobey  her  and 
altogether  discontinue  his  visits.  And  he  knew  also  that 
he  would  naturally  be  the  last  person  to  hear  what  was 
common  gossip.  The  season,  however,  passed  on  quietly 
enough  until  Lent  began,  bringing  the  period  of  mortifi 
cation  and  fasting  during  which  society  uses  its  legs  less 
and  its  tongues  more.  This,  it  may  be  here  again  said 
for  the  sake  of  clearness,  was  the  Lenten  season  of  the 
second  year  after  Arden 's  death,  and  after  the  final  break 
between  Ghisleri  and  Maddalena  dell7  Armi. 

At  that  time  several  events  occurred  which  it  is  neces 
sary  to  chronicle  in  greater  detail,  for  the  better  under 
standing  of  this  history,  and  for  the  more  complete 
refutation  of  the  story  which  passed  commonly  current 
for  some  time  afterwards,  and  which  very  nearly  brought 
about  the  most  irreparable  consequences. 


PIETRO   GHISLEBI.  305 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

DURIXG  nearly  a  year  a  large  number  of  persons  had 
been  acquainted  with  the  story  of  Adele's  written  confes 
sion,  but,  as  has  been  shown,  the  matter  was  considered 
so  serious  as  to  deserve  secrecy  —  the  highest  social  hon 
our  which  can  be  conferred  on  truth.  It  had  never  reached 
the  ears  of  any  member  of  the  Savelli  or  of  the  Gerano 
families,  and  but  for  Maddalena  dell'  Armi,  Ghisleri  him 
self  would  never  have  heard  it. 

Although  Adele  was  suffering  the  dire  results  of  her 
evil  deeds  in  the  shape  of  almost  incurable  morphinism, 
the  principal  cause  of  her  first  fears  and  consequent  ill 
ness  no  longer  troubled  her  as  it  had  once  done.  She 
now  believed  that  the  confession  had,  after  all,  caught 
upon  some  projection  or  in  some  crevice  of  the  masonry 
in  the  shaft  of  the  oubliette  at  Gerano,  and  that  it  would 
never  be  heard  of  again.  It  was  incredible,  she  thought, 
that  if  any  person  had  found  it  and  read  it,  he  or  she 
should  not  attempt  to  extort  a  large  sum  of  money  for 
it.  But  no  one  appeared  to  demand  anything.  That  was 
sufficient  proof  that  no  one  possessed  the  document,  and 
it  must  therefore  have  remained  safely  where  it  had  fallen. 
Her  one  and  only  fear  was  lest  something  should  happen 
to  that  part  of  the  castle  which  might  make  repairs 
necessary,  and  possibly  lead  to  the  discovery  of  the  letter. 
But  that  was  improbable  in  the  extreme.  The  massive 
walls  had  stood  as  they  were  during  nearly  four  centuries, 
and  did  not  show  any  signs  of  weakness.  As  for  Lucia, 
if  she  ever  betrayed  the  secret,  or  hinted  to  her  present 
mistress  that  there  was  a  secret  to  betray,  and  if  any 
story  got  afloat  by  her  agency,  Adele  could  deny  it,  and 
her  position  was  strong  enough  in  the  world  to  force 
most  people  to  accept  her  denial.  She  almost  laughed 
at  the  idea.  The  principal  statement  contained  in  the 
confession  would  seem  almost  grotesque  in  its  improba- 


306  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

bility.  She  knew  very  well  that  if  she  ever  heard  such 
an  action  imputed  to  her  worst  enemy  she  would  not 
believe  it ;  she  would  not  even  take  the  trouble  to  repeat 
it,  because  nothing  was  more  foolish  than  to  get  the  repu 
tation  of  telling  incredible  tales.  She  was  quite  sure  of 
this,  for  when  she  mentally  tried  the  position  she  found 
that  she  could  not  have  given  credence  to  such  a  legend 
even  if  any  one  had  accused  Laura  Arden  of  having  done 
the  deed.  And  as  she  hated  Laura  with  a  whole-hearted 
hatred  that  did  not  hesitate  at  trifles,  she  considered  the 
argument  to  be  conclusive. 

Her  hatred  grew  as  the  fatal  effects  of  the  morphia 
began  to  unsettle  her  brain  and  disturb  the  strong  power 
of  self-control  which  had  borne  her  through  so  many  dan 
gers.  The  necessity  for  keeping  up  an  outward  show  of 
good  relations  with  her  step-sister  on  pain  of  the  severest 
financial  punishment  if  she  angered  her  father,  irritated 
her  extremely.  She  was  well  aware  that,  in  spite  of  the 
reconciliation  and  of  her  own  behaviour,  the  world  still 
chose  to  believe  most  of  the  things  she  had  formerly  said 
of  Laura,  and  that  the  latter's  position  was  anything  but 
enviable.  Nevertheless,  Laura  seemed  to  survive  very 
well,  and  in  Adele's  opinion  had  obtained  far  more  than 
her  share  of  good  things.  That  she  had  really  suffered 
terribly,  in  her  own  way,  by  the  death  of  her  husband, 
none  knew  better  than  Adele,  and  that,  at  least,  was  a 
satisfaction.  But  in  other  ways  she  was  singularly  fortu 
nate.  Her  little  boy  was  as  sturdy  and  strong  and  sound 
as  any  mother  could  have  wished ;  for  deformity  which  is 
the  result  of  accident  is  not  inherited.  Moreover,  there 
seemed  to  be  little  doubt  but  that  the  uncle  from  whom 
Arden  had  expected  a  large  fortune  would  now  leave  his 
money  to  little  Herbert.  Laura  was,  of  course,  decidedly 
poor  at  present,  judging  from  Adele's  point  of  view,  but 
in  the  life  she  led  she  needed  very  little  money,  and 
what  she  had  sufficed  for  her  wants.  She  was  evidently 
quite  contented.  Then,  as  though  the  rest  were  not 
enough,  she  had  what  Adele  called  a  monopoly  of  Pietro 


PIETEO   GHISLERI.  307 

Ghisleri,  who  acted  as  though,  he  intended  to  marry  her, 
and  whom  she  received  as  though  she  meant  to  accept  him. 
As  Laura  Arden,  society  could  treat  her  as  it  pleased, 
but  as  Ghisleri's  wife,  society  would  not  only  open  its 
arms  to  her,  but  would  in  all  likelihood  espouse  her 
cause  in  any  future  difference  or  difficulty.  Ghisleri 
would  know  how  to  assure  her  position,  and  would  have 
no  difficulty  in  making  her  respected,  for  he  was  a  most 
particularly  unpleasant  person  to  quarrel  with  and  it  was 
not  every  one  who  had  Campodonico's  luck.  Of  course, 
there  might  yet  be  time  to  prevent  the  marriage,  and 
Adele  rashly  resolved  that  if  that  were  possible  she  would 
accomplish  it. 

Of  late  she  had  begun  to  include  Ghisleri  in  her  hatred 
of  Laura,  having  finally  given  up  the  attempt  to  attract 
him  into  her  immediate  circle.  He  was  always  the  same 
with  her,  and  never,  in  the  course  of  years,  had  seemed 
willing  to  advance  beyond  the  limits  of  ordinary  and 
friendly  acquaintance,  though  she  had  often  tried  to  draw 
him  further.  The  ordinary  methods  failed  with  him. 
He  could  not  be  tempted  into  making  confidences,  which 
step  is  one  of  the  first  and  perhaps  the  most  important 
in  the  ordinary,  business-like  flirtation.  He  was  appar 
ently  indifferent  to  praise  as  he  was  to  blame,  except 
from  one  or  two  persons.  He  never  had  an  enemy,  to 
ruin  whom  he  needed  a  woman's  help  —  a  short  method  of 
reaching  intimacy  which  is  not  to  be  despised  in  dealing 
with  refined  bad  people.  Least  of  all,  was  he  a  man  who 
could  be  led  to  compromise  himself  in  a  woman's  eyes  in 
such  a  way  as  to  consider  it  his  duty  to  make  love  to  her. 
Adele  had  tried  all  these  approved  ways  of  beginning  a 
serious  flirtation  with  Pietro,  but  had  failed  each  time, 
and  it  enraged  her  to  see  that  Laura  could  keep  him  with 
out  any  stratagem  at  all,  by  sheer  force  of  attraction. 
For  she  had  no  belief  at  all  in  their  platonic  friendship. 
One  or  the  other,  or  both,  must  be  in  love,  for  the  very 
simple  and  well-known  reason  that  a  permanent  close 
friendship  between  man  and  woman  within  certain  limits 


308  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

of  age  was  an  utter  impossibility.  Laura  was  perhaps 
too  foolish  to  realise  the  fact,  but  Ghisleri  was  certainly 
not  the  man  to  forget  it.  She  disliked  him  because  she 
had  not  been  able  to  attract  him  herself,  and  she  hated 
him  for  being  attracted  by  Laura. 

She  now  made  up  her  mind  that  unless  she  could  ruin 
him  in  Laura's  estimation,  the  marriage  could  not  be 
prevented,  and  she  began  to  revolve  the  chances  for  accom 
plishing  her  purpose.  Her  intelligence  was  not  what  it 
had  been,  for  it  was  subject  now  to  fits  of  abnormal 
activity  and  to  a  subsequent  reaction,  in  which  she  was 
not  always  perfectly  well  aware  of  what  was  going  on 
around  her.  In  the  one  state  she  was  rash,  over-excited, 
nervous ;  in  the  other  she  was  dull  and  apathetic,  and 
lost  herself  in  hazy  dreams  of  a  rather  disconnected  char 
acter.  The  consequence  was  that  she  found  it  very  hard 
to  hit  upon  any  consecutive  plan  which  presented  even 
the  faintest  hope  of  success.  Several  times  she  was  on 
the  point  of  doing  something  very  foolish,  when  she  had 
almost  lost  control  of  herself,  and  she  was  only  saved  by 
the  long  habit  of  worldly  tact  which  would  probably  sur 
vive  all  her  other  faculties  if  they  were  wrecked  by  the 
habit  which  was  killing  her.  But  she  grew  distrustful 
of  herself  and  of  her  powers,  and  a  new  suffering  was 
added  to  the  many  she  already  had  to  bear,  as  she  gradu 
ally  became  conscious  of  the  terrible  change  in  herself. 
She  tried  to  find  out  all  she  could  about  Pietro  Ghisleri. 
At  that  time  all  Rome  was  going  mad  about  making  money 
by  speculation,  and  all  sorts  of  dishonest  transactions 
necessarily  went  on  under  cover  of  greater  ones  honest 
in  themselves.  Adele  did  her  best  to  ascertain  whether 
Ghisleri  were  connected  with  any  of  them,  or  with  any 
affair  whatever  of  a  nature  which  could  be  criticised. 
But  she  failed  altogether.  He  looked  on  at  the  general 
rush  for  money  with  perfect  indifference,  and  was  quite 
content  with  the  little  he  already  possessed.  It  struck 
Adele  that  a  card  scandal  would  do  him  as  much  harm  as 
anything,  and  she  made  inquiries  as  to  his  fondness  for 


PIETRO   GHISLEEI.  309 

play,  but  was  informed  that  he  rarely  played  at  all,  and 
generally  lost  a  little  if  he  did. 

He  was  hard  to  catch.  So  far  as  she  could  learn,  he 
had  changed  his  mode  of  life  very  considerably  during 
the  past  two  years.  It  was  quite  certain  that  he  had 
definitely  broken  with  Maddalena  dell'  Armi,  though  no 
one  was  really  sure  of  the  exact  date  at  which  the  rupture 
had  taken  place.  They  were  both  clever  people  who  kept 
their  secrets  to  themselves  on  the  simple  plan  that,  if  a 
thing  is  not  to  be  known,  it  should  not  be  told.  Laura 
was  the  only  other  woman  whom  he  visited  regularly, 
and  his  doings  were  far  too  well  known  to  make  it  pos 
sible  to  float  a  scandal  about  him  in  connexion  with  some 
one  else,  which  should  reach  Laura's  ears.  Besides, 
Laura  would  not  care.  She  was  quite  capable  of  not 
taking  the  slightest  notice,  just  as  in  former  times  she 
had  not  cared  whether  he  saw  Maddalena  every  day  or 
not.  All  she  wanted,  thought  Adele,  was  that  Ghisleri 
should  be  at  her  feet  —  and  there  he  was. 

At  last  she  hit  upon  the  rather  wild  plan  of  asking 
Ghisleri  himself  what  she  had  better  do.  There  was 
something  diabolical  in  the  idea  of  taking  his  own  advice 
in  order  to  ruin  him,  which  appealed  to  her  in  the  present 
state  of  her  brain  and  nerves.  They  often  met  in  society, 
and  she  caught  sight  of  him  that  very  night  at  a  Lenten 
party  in  Casa  Montevarchi  —  one  of  the  last  ever  given 
in  that  house,  by  the  by,  for  the  family  was  ruined  soon 
afterwards.  She  followed  him  in  the  crowd  and  touched 
his  shoulder  with  her  fan. 

"  Will  you  give  me  your  arm?  "  she  asked.  "  Thanks. 
I  want  to  sit  down  somewhere.  There  is  a  sofa  over 
there." 

"You  still  come  to  these  talking  matches,  I  see,"  said 
Ghisleri,  as  they  sat  down.  "  It  must  be  for  the  sake  of 
saying  something  interesting,  for  it  can  certainly  not  be 
in  the  hope  of  hearing  anything  of  the  kind." 

"You  can  still  make  sharp  speeches,"  laughed  Adele. 
"  I  thought  my  step-sister  had  converted  you,  and  that 
you  were  turning  into  a  sort  of  Saint  Propriety." 


310  PIETRO   GHISLEKI. 

"Oh,  you  thought  so,"  said  Pietro,  coolly.  "Well, 
you  see  you  were  mistaken.  There  is  as  little  of  pro 
priety  about  me  as  usual,  or  of  saintship  either." 

He  looked  at  the  worn  and  dilapidated  features  of  the 
woman  beside  him,  at  her  hollow  cheeks  and  lustreless 
eyes,  and  he  almost  pitied  her.  He  wondered  how  she 
had  the  courage  to  keep  up  the  comedy  and  to  face  the 
world  as  she  did,  night  after  night,  old  before  her  youth 
was  half  over,  ugly  when  she  had  been  pretty  but  two 
years  earlier,  weary  always,  and  haunted  by  the  shadow 
of  the  poison  to  which  she  was  a  slave. 

"You  need  not  be  angry,"  she  answered.  "I  did  not 
mean  anything  disagreeable.  I  wish  you  would  say  more 
sharp  things,  it  is  refreshing  to  hear  a  man  talk  after 
listening  to  a  pack  of  little  boys." 

"Why  do  you  listen  to  them?" 

"  They  amuse  me  for  five  minutes,  and  when  I  have 
tolerated  them  as  long  as  that  I  cannot  get  rid  of  them. 
Then  I  begin  to  long  for  a  little  serious  talk  with  a  man 
like  you  —  a  man  one  can  ask  a  question  of  with  the  hope 
of  getting  a  reasonable  answer." 

"You  are  very  good  to  put  it  in  that  way,"  said  Ghis- 
leri.  "  Have  you  any  particular  question  to  ask  me  now? 
I  will  be  as  intensely  reasonable  as  I  can  in  my  reply, 
on  condition  that  it  is  a  thing  of  which  I  know  nothing 
whatever." 

"  What  an  extraordinary  restriction !  "  exclaimed  Adele. 

"Not  at  all.  If  I  should  know  anything  about  the 
matter  in  hand  it  would  be  sure  to  be  so  little  that  it  would 
confuse  me  and  hamper  the  free  working  of  my  imagina 
tion,  which  might  otherwise  produce  interesting  and  even 
startling  effects.  You  may  have  heard  that  a  little 
knowledge  is  dangerous.  That  is  the  meaning  of  the 
proverb." 

"I  knew  I  should  get  something  original  from  you. 
You  always  say  something  which  no  one  else  would." 

"  And  you  always  discover  in  me  some  new  and  beau 
tiful  quality  which  had  escaped  my  notice,"  answered 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  311 

Ghisleri.  "Is  it  with  a  view  to  getting  some  particular 
sort  of  answer  to  the  question  you  meditate,  that  you 
flatter  me  so  nicely  before  asking  it?  " 

"  Of  course,"  laughed  Adele.  "What  did  you  expect? 
But  I  do  not  think  you  would  answer  the  question  at  all. 
You  would  give  me  a  dissertation  on  something  else  and 
then  go  away  and  leave  me  to  be  torn  to  pieces  by  the 
little  boys  again." 

"What  an  awful  death!"  laughed  Ghisleri.  "I  will 
not  leave  you.  I  will  protect  you  against  whole  legions 
of  little  boys." 

"  You  look  as  if  you  could.  You  are  quite  as  strong 
as  ever  now,  are  you  not?  You  never  feel  any  pain  from 
your  wound?" 

"Never,"  answered  Pietro,  indifferently.  "Was  that 
the  grave  question  to  which  you  wanted  a  serious  and 
well-considered  reply?" 

"  Do  not  be  absurd !  "  cried  Adele,  with  a  laugh.  "  One 
has  to  make  civil  inquiries  of  that  kind  sometimes.  It 
is  a  social  duty.  Even  if  I  hated  you  I  should  ask  if 
you  were  well." 

"Of  course.  The  old-fashioned  poisoners  in  the  mid 
dle  ages  did  that.  It  was  of  no  use  to  waste  expensive 
poison  on  a  man  who  was  ill  and  might  die  without  it. 
They  practised  economy." 

"  What  a  horrible  idea!  "  exclaimed  Adele,  shuddering. 
"Horrible  ideas  were  the  fashion  then,"  pursued  Ghis 
leri.  "I  have  thought  a  great  deal  about  those  times 
since  you  showed  me  those  interesting  places  at  Gerano, 
nearly  two  years  ago.  The  modern  publisher  of  primers 
would  have  made  his  fortune  under  the  Borgia  domina 
tion.  Fancy  the  titles :  'Every  man  his  own  executioner, 
a  practical  guide  for  headsmen,  torturers  and  poisoners, 
by  a  member  of  the  profession  (diploma)  with  notes, 
diagrams,  and  a  special  table  of  measurements  and  in 
structions  for  using  the  patent  German  rack,  etc.'  Does 
not  that  sound  wildly  interesting?  They  would  have 
had  it  on  the  drawing-room  table  in  every  castle.  It 


PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

would  have  been  a  splendid  book  for  hawkers.     Gerano 
made  me  think  of  it." 

Adele  laughed  in  rather  a  forced  way,  and  her  eyes 
moved  uneasily,  glancing  quickly  in  one  direction  and 
another. 

"  You  would  have  been  a  dreadful  person  in  those  times, 
I  am  quite  sure,"  she  said.  "  You  would  have  been  a 
monster  of  cruelty." 

"  Of  course  I  should.  So  should  we  all.  But  we  man 
age  those  little  things  so  easily  now,  and  so  much  more 
tastefully." 

"Exactly,"  said  Adele,  who  saw  her  chance  and  an 
opportunity  of  turning  the  conversation  at  the  same  time. 
"I  would  like  your  views  upon  modern  social  warfare. 
If  you  wished  to  ruin  your  enemy,  how  would  you  go 
about  it?" 

"A  man  or  a  woman?"  asked  Ghisleri,  calmly. 
"Oh,  both.     A   man  first.      It  is  always  harder  to 
injure  a  man  than  a  woman,  is  it  not?" 

"  So  they  say.  Do  you  wish  to  kill  the  man  or  to  ruin 
him  altogether,  or  only  to  injure  him  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world?  » 

"Take  the  three  in  the  other  order,"  suggested  Adele. 
"A  mere  injury  first  — and  the  rest  afterwards." 

"Very  well.  I  have  something  very  neat  in  the  kill 
ing  line  —  to  use  the  shopkeeper  style.  I  will  keep  it  to 
the  end.  Let  me  see.  You  wish  to  do  a  man  a  great 
injury  —  enough,  say,  to  make  a  woman  who  loves  him 
turn  upon  him.  Is  that  it?  " 

"Yes,  that  would  do  very  well,"  said  Adele,  as  though 
she  were  discussing  the  fashion  of  a  new  frock. 

"If  you  happen  to  be  a  good  hand  at  forgery,"  answered 
Ghisleri,  with  perfect  equanimity,  "write  a  number  of 
letters  purporting  to  be  from  him  to  another  woman. 
Put  anything  you  like  into  them,  take  them  to  the  woman 
who  loves  him,  and  ask  a  large  sum  for  them.  She  will 
probably  pay  it  and  leave  him.  You  will  accomplish 
your  object  and  earn  money  at  the  same  time.  If  you 


PIETEO    GHISLERI.  313 

cannot  forge  his  handwriting,  forge  that  of  an  imaginary 
woman  —  that  is  easy  enough  —  and  follow  the  same 
course  as  before.  It  is  almost  sure  to  succeed." 

"  What  a  surpassingly  diabolical  scheme !  "  exclaimed 
Adele,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Yes,  I  flatter  myself  it  is  not  bad.  Of  course  you 
can  make  the  matter  public  if  only  you  are  sure  of  the 
forgery  being  good,  or  of  an  imaginary  woman  being 
forthcoming  at  the  right  moment.  But,  on  the  whole, 
the  finest  way  of  ruining  a  man  before  the  world  is  to 
steal  his  money.  No  reputation  can  stand  poverty  and 
slander  at  the  same  time." 

"But  it  is  not  always  easy  to  steal  a  man's  money," 
objected  Adele. 

"Oh,  yes,  unless  a  man  is  very  rich.  Bring  a  suit 
against  his  title,  and  if  he  fights  it,  the  lawyers  will  eat 
up  all  he  has.  Then  you  can  play  the  magnanimous  part 
and  say  that  you  give  up  the  suit  out  of  pity  for  him. 
That  is  very  pretty,  too.  But  the  prettiest  of  all  is  the 
new  way  of  killing  people,  because  nobody  can  possibly 
find  you  out." 

"What  do  you  make  them  die  of?"  asked  Adele  ner 
vously. 

"  Cholera  —  typhus  —  fever,  almost  anything  you 
please.  It  is  a  convenient  way  because  the  epidemic  of 
the  day  is  generally  the  most  ready  to  hand.  What  did 
you  say?  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  thought  you  spoke.  Yes, 
it  is  delightful,  and  in  most  cases  I  believe  it  is  almost 
sure  to  succeed.  I  dined  with  Gouache  last  night,  and 
Professor  Wusterschinder,  the  great  German  authority 
on  cutting  up  live  rabbits,  you  know,  was  there.  A 
charming  man  —  speaks  French  like  a  human  being,  and 
understands  Italian  well.  I  liked  him  very  much.  The 
conversation  turned  upon  murder.  You  know  Gouache 
has  a  taste  for  horrors,  being  the  gentlest  and  kindest  of 
men.  The  professor  told  a  long  story  of  a  doctor  who 
murdered  the  father,  mother,  and  aunt  of  a  girl  whom 
none  of  the  three  would  let  him  marry.  He  did  it  in  the 


314  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

course  of  medical  treatment,  with  three  different  vegeta 
ble  poisons  —  masterly,  the  professor  said.  There  was  an 
inquiry  and  they  dug  everybody  up  again,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing,  but  no  one  could  positively  prove  any 
thing  and  the  doctor  married  the  girl  after  all." 

"  You  seem  full  of  horrors  this  evening, "  said  Adele, 
moving  one  shoulder  in  a  restless,  jerking  way  which  was 
becoming  a  habit. 

"I  always  am,"  answered  Ghisleri,  turning  his  cold 
blue  eyes  on  her.  "  I  know  the  most  horrible  things  and 
am  always  just  on  the  point  of  saying  them." 

"Please  do  not!"  exclaimed  Adele,  shrinking  away 
from  him  into  the  corner  of  the  sofa,  almost  in  physical 
fear  of  him  now. 

"  I  was  telling  you  about  the  cholera  trick,  or  I  was 
going  to  tell  you.  The  other  story  was  only  the  prelude. 
After  giving  it  to  us  with  a  number  of  details  I  have 
forgotten,  Professor  Wiisterschinder  launched  out  about 
the  wonders  of  science,  as  those  men  always  do,  and  posi 
tively  made  me  uncomfortable  with  the  numbers  of  un 
fortunate  rabbits  and  puppies  he  cut  to  shreds  in  his 
conversation.  Then  he  came  to  the  point  and  began  to 
explain  how  easy  it  is  to  murder  people  by  natural  means 
like  typhus.  It  is  done  by  taking  the  —  good  Heavens, 
Donna  Adele,  what  is  the  matter !  " 

Adele  had  uttered  a  short,  low  cry,  and  her  face  had 
turned  very  white.  Her  lips  were  contorted  in  an  expres 
sion  of  anguish  such  as  Pietro  had  never  seen,  and  her 
ringers  were  twisting  together  as  though  they  would 
break. 

"  Can  I  do  anything?  "  he  asked,  anxiously.  He  feared 
she  was  going  to  be  seized  by  some  kind  of  convulsion, 
but  the  woman's  strong  will  helped  her  even  then. 

"Hold  my  fan  before  my  arm,"  she  managed  to  say, 
and  she  felt  for  something  in  her  pocket  with  her  right 
hand. 

In  a  moment  she  produced  a  tiny  syringe  with  a  point 
like  a  needle,  and  a  little  bottle.  With  incredible  quick- 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  315 

ness  and  skill  she  filled  the  syringe,  pricked  the  skin  on 
her  left  arm,  and  ran  the  point  into  it,  and  then  pressed 
the  tiny  piston  slowly  till  it  would  go  no  further.  In 
little  more  than  one  minute  she  had  put  everything  into 
her  pocket  again,  and  taking  her  fan  from  Ghisleri's 
hand,  leaned  back  in  the  corner  of  the  sofa,  with  a  sigh 
of  relief. 

"I  am  afraid  I  made  you  nervous,"  he  said,  in  a  tone 
of  apology. 

"Not  at  all,"  she  answered.  "I  had  forgotten  to  take 
my  morphia  before  coming  —  that  was  all.  I  suffer 
terribly  with  pains  in  my  head  when  I  do  not  take  it." 

"And  is  the  pain  gone  already?"  asked  Ghisleri,  in 
some  surprise,  and  wondering  how  she  would  answer. 

"  Oh,  no !  But  it  will  be  gone  very  soon.  I  am  quieter 
when  I  know  I  have  taken  the  morphia.  Of  course," 
she  said,  with  a  forced  laugh,  "  you  must  not  suppose  that 
I  take  it  often,  not  even  every  day.  I  believe  it  is  very 
bad  in  large  quantities." 

"Of  course."  Ghisleri  could  hardly  help  smiling  at 
the  poor  attempt  to  disclaim  any  slavery  to  the  fatal  drug, 
contradicting,  as  it  did,  what  she  had  said  but  a  moment 
before. 

For  the  third  time  since  Arden's  death  the  conviction 
came  upon  him  that  Adele  had  been  the  responsible 
cause  of  it,  and  this  time  it  was  destined  to  be  perma 
nent.  The  theory  of  coincidence  was  exhausted,  and  he 
abandoned  it.  The  stories  he  had  told  her  about  Pro 
fessor  Wiisterschinder,  the  great  German  authority,  were 
quite  true,  and  Ghisleri's  eyes  had  been  opened  on  the 
previous  evening  to  the  possibilities  of  evil  disclosed  by 
modern  science.  He  was  not  yet  sure  of  what  Adele  had 
done,  but  he  was  convinced  that  the  general  nature  of  the 
process  she  had  employed  to  communicate  the  fever  to 
Arden  was  similar  to  those  which  the  professor  had 
described,  and  that  she  must,  in  all  probability,  have 
got  the  necessary  information  from  a  scientific  book  or 
article  on  the  subject,  which  she  had  either  procured 


316  PIETRO   GHISLEEI. 

expressly,  or  which  had  perhaps  fallen  under  her  eyes 
by  chance. 

She,  on  her  part,  had  been  desperately  frightened,  as  she 
had  good  cause  to  be,  for  it  was  almost  inconceivable  to 
her  that  he  could  have  accidentally  gone  so  near  the  mark 
as  he  was  going  when  her  cry  had  stopped  him.  She  felt 
that  if  he  had  pronounced  the  next  half  a  dozen  words, 
she  must  have  gone  mad  there  and  then  in  the  drawing- 
room  where  she  sat,  and  she  had  instinctively  prevented 
him  proceeding  any  further.  Then  in  the  convulsion  of 
terror  she  felt,  she  had  resorted  to  her  sole  comforter,  the 
morphia,  and  it  had  not  played  her  false.  In  a  short 
time  its  influence  was  at  work  and  indeed  the  mere  act 
of  taking  it  was  in  itself  soothing  in  the  extreme.  She 
felt  herself  growing  calm  again  and  more  able  to  face  the 
new  difficulties  and  terrors  that  had  arisen  in  her  path. 
And  they  were  many.  She  had  no  doubt  now  that  Ghis- 
leri  had  either  read  the  lost  confession  or  had  spoken  with 
some  one  who  had.  It  was  appalling  to  think  that  in 
that  very  room  there  might  be  a  score  of  persons  who 
knew  what  that  letter  contained  as  well  as  he.  The  mor 
phia  helped  her  wonderfully.  But  it  was  clear  that 
Ghisleri  had  her  in  his  power.  An  idea  flashed  across 
her  mind.  It  was  so  simple  that  she  wondered  how  she 
had  ndt  thought  of  it  before.  The  letter  had  really  fallen 
to  the  bottom  of  the  shaft.  Ghisleri,  interested  perhaps 
in  the  story  of  Paolo  Braccio,  had  strolled  down  to  the 
dungeon  again  by  himself  and  had  seen  the  paper  lying 
there.  In  that  case  he  alone  knew  of  its  existence  or  of 
its  contents,  besides  herself  and  Lucia.  The  thought  was 
so  agreeable,  compared  with  the  alternative  of  supposing 
that  all  society  knew  the  details  of  her  evil  deeds,  that 
she  clung  to  it.  Then  she  looked  at  the  man  who,  as  she 
supposed,  had  power  to  dispose  of  her  existence  at  his 
pleasure,  and  she  wondered  whether  he  had  a  price. 
All  men  had,  she  had  heard.  But  as  it  seemed  to  her 
now,  this  particular  man  would  not  be  like  the  generality, 
or  else  the  price  he  would  set  on  her  letter  would  be  of 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  317 

the  kind  which  she  could  not  possibly  pay,  because  she 
would  never  be  able  to  obtain  for  him  what  he  might 
want.  The  feeling  she  had  known  in  the  first  months  of 
her  torment  returned  upon  her  now,  and  very  strongly  — 
the  awful  feeling  of  degradation  compared  even  with  the 
worst  of  the  people  she  knew.  In  her  eyes,  Ghisleri, 
with  all  his  misdeeds,  seemed  a  being  of  superior  purity 
and  goodness.  He  had  never  done  what  she  had  done, 
nor  anything  approaching  to  it  in  the  most  distant  way. 
He  had  faced  men  in  fair  fight,  and  hurt  them,  and  been 
almost  mortally  hurt  himself,  but  he  had  never  stabbed 
an  enemy  in  the  back  nor  dealt  a  blow  in  the  dark.  He 
had  loved  more  than  one  woman,  and  had  been  loved  in 
return,  but  no  one  had  ever  hinted  that  a  woman's  confi 
dence  had  passed  his  lips,  nor  that  he  had  ever  spoken 
lightly  of  any  woman's  good  name.  If  he  had  done  evil, 
he  had  done  it  fairly,  defiantly,  above  board,  and  in  the 
light  of  day.  Adele  envied  him  with  all  her  heart  as  he 
sat  there  beside  her,  confident  in  his  own  honourable  repu 
tation  —  as  honour  is  reckoned  in  the  world  —  and  free  to 
go  and  to  come  and  to  do  what  seemed  good  in  his  own 
eyes  without  a  second  thought  of  the  consequences  or  the 
least  fear  of  betraying  himself.  There  was  not  at  that 
moment  one  person  in  the  room  with  whom  she  would 
not  have  been  only  too  glad  to  exchange  places,  station, 
fortune,  name,  reputation  —  everything.  And  she  fan 
cied  Ghisleri  knew  it,  as  indeed  he  almost  did,  and  she 
feared  to  meet  his  eyes. 

The  silence  had  lasted  so  long  that  it  was  fast  becoming 
awkward.  It  was  rarely  indeed  that  Ghisleri  forgot  the 
social  duty  of  destroying  silence  ruthlessly  the  moment 
it  appears,  with  any  weapon  which  comes  to  hand,  from 
a  feather  to  a  bombshell.  But  on  the  present  occasion 
his  thoughts  were  so  many  and  so  complex  as  to  fill  his 
mind  completely  for  a  few  minutes,  so  that  all  outward 
considerations  sank  into  insignificance.  The  effort  was 
made  at  last  by  Adele,  the  one  of  the  two  who  had  by 
far  the  most  at  stake  in  playing  her  part. 


318  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

"Are  you  aware,"  she  began,  with  an  attempt  at  play 
fulness  which  was  almost  weird,  "that  you  have  not 
spoken  a  single  word  during  the  last  quarter  of  an  hour? 
Have  you  quite  forgotten  my  existence?  My  dear  friend, 
you  are  growing  almost  rude  in  your  old  age !  " 

"  Good  manners  were  never  anything  but  an  affectation 
with  me,"  answered  Ghisleri.  "  But  you  are  quite  right. 
There  are  little  conventions  of  that  sort  which  must  be 
respected  if  society  is  to  keep  together  and  hold  up  its 
head  —  though  why  it  should  not  lay  down  that  same  head 
and  let  itself  go  to  pieces  is  beyond  my  comprehension. 
Present  company  is  always  excepted,  you  know  —  so  you 
and  I  would  survive  as  glorious  and  immortal  relics  of  a 
by-gone  civilisation." 

He  hardly  knew  what  he  was  saying,  but  he  let  the 
words  run  on  with  the  easy  habit  of  talking  and  saying 
nothing  which  sometimes  saves  critical  situations  for 
those  who  possess  it  and  which  can  be  acquired  by  almost 
any  one  who  is  not  shy.  The  first  step  in  studying  that 
useful  accomplishment  is  to  talk  when  everybody  else  is 
talking,  and  not  to  pay  the  slightest  attention  to  the 
sounds  which  pass  one's  lips.  Any  noise  will  do,  bad  or 
good  —  as  the  bearer  of  the  good  news  to  Aix  put  it  — 
only,  if  possible,  from  the  first  let  the  noise  take  the  shape 
of  words.  As  every  one  else  is  talking,  no  one  will  hear 
you.  Some  of  Mother  Goose's  rhymes  are  excellent  for 
such  practice,  but  those  who  prefer  to  recite  the  Eton 
grammar  will  obtain  a  result  quite  as  satisfactory  in  the 
end.  No  one  listens,  and  it  makes  no  difference.  You 
will  then  get  a  reputation  for  joining  cheerfully  in  the 
talk  of  the  day.  But  if  you  sit  looking  at  your  plate 
because  you  have  nothing  to  say,  the  givers  of  dinner 
parties  will  curse  you  in  their  hearts,  and  will  rarely  ask 
you  to  eat  their  food,  which  treatment,  though  it  will 
ultimately  prolong  your  life,  will  not  contribute  to  your 
social  success.  Gradually,  if  you  practise  the  system 
assiduously,  you  will  be  able  to  walk  alone,  so  to  say. 
By  attraction,  your  unconscious  phrases  will  become 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  319 

exactly  like  those  of  your  neighbours.  You  will  then 
only  need  to  open  your  mouth,  stretch  the  vocal  chords, 
and  supply  the  necessary  breath,  and  admirably  con 
structed  inanities  will  roll  out,  even  when  everybody  is 
listening,  and  while  you  are  gaining  time  to  select  in  your 
mind  a  sufficiently  cutting  epithet  with  which  to  adorn 
your  friend  Smith  Tompkins's  name  when  it  is  mentioned, 
or  while  you  are  nicely  calculating  the  exact  amount  of 
money  you  can  ask  the  said  Smith  Tompkins  to  lend  you 
the  next  time  you  have  lost  at  baccarat. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

THE  state  of  certainty  in  regard  to  Adele's  doings,  at 
which  Ghisleri  had  now  arrived,  seemed  to  make  any 
action  in  the  matter  useless  if  not  practically  impossible. 
He  ascertained  without  difficulty  the  law  concerning 
such  attempts  to  do  .bodily  injury  as  he  was  quite  sure 
she  had  made.  The  crime  was  homicide  when  the  at 
tempt  led  to  fatal  results.  There  was  no  doubt  of  that. 
On  the  other  hand,  even  if  it  should  seem  advisable  to 
bring  Adele  to  justice,  and  to  involve  both  the  Savelli 
and  Gerano  families  in  an  affair  which  would  socially 
ruin  them  for  at  least  one  whole  generation,  in  case  Adele 
were  convicted,  yet  the  positive  proofs  would  be  very  hard 
to  produce,  and  the  ultimate  good  to  be  gained  would  be 
infinitesimally  small  compared  with  the  injury  done  to 
innocent  persons.  The  best  course  was  to  maintain  the 
most  absolute  secrecy  and  to  discourage  as  far  as  possible 
any  allusions  others  might  make  to  the  mystery  of  the 
lost  letter.  Ghisleri,  too,  understood  human  nature  far 
too  well  to  suppose  that  Adele  had  in  the  first  instance 
desired  or  expected  to  kill  Herbert  Arden.  She  had  most 
probably  only  meant  to  cause  Laura  the  greatest  possible 
anxiety  and  trouble  by  bringing  a  dangerous  illness  upon 


320  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

her  husband.  Scarlet  fever,  as  is  well  known,  is  not 
often  fatal  to  adults  in  Italy,  and  such  cases  as  Arden's 
in  which  death  ensues  within  eight  and  forty  hours,  are 
so  rare  as  to  be  phenomenal  in  any  part  of  the  world. 
But  Ghisleri  had  found  them  described  in  the  book  he 
chanced  to  possess,  under  the  head  of  "  rudimentary  cases 
ending  fatally  "  —  and  it  was  there  stated  that  they  were 
the  consequence  of  "  a  very  violent  infection."  Adele,  in 
practising  some  one  of  the  methods  of  fever-poisoning 
which  the  great  professor  had  described  so  vividly  at 
Gouache's,  had  of  course  not  known  exactly  what  result 
she  was  about  to  produce.  She  had  assuredly  not  foreseen 
that  Arden  would  die,  and  had  very  probably  not  even 
believed  that  he  would  really  take  the  fever  at  all.  As 
for  the  wish  to  do  harm,  Pietro  explained  that  naturally 
enough.  He  knew  that  the  dinner  of  reconciliation  must 
have  been  brought  about  by  the  Prince  of  Gerano,  and  he 
guessed  that  in  the  interview  between  the  father  and  the 
daughter  Adele  had  been  deeply  humiliated  by  being 
forced  to  yield  and  by  the  necessity  of  openly  retracting 
what  she  had  said  of  Arden  and  Laura.  In  a  woman 
whose  impulses  were  naturally  bad, 'and  whose  mind  had 
never  been  very  well  balanced,  it  was  not  very  hard  to 
explain  how  the  idea  had  presented  itself,  if  chance  had 
at  that  moment  thrown  the  necessary  information  into 
her  way.  The  whole  story  was  now  sufficiently  connected 
from  first  to  last,  and  Ghisleri,  as  he  thought  over  it,  saw 
how  all  the  details  he  remembered  confirmed  the  theory. 
He  recollected  the  doctor's  remarks  about  the  case,  and 
how  surprised  he  had  been  by  its  extraordinary  violence. 
He  recalled  vividly  all  that  he  had  heard  of  Adele's  be 
haviour  immediately  after  the  dinner  party,  and  his  own 
impression  of  her  appearance  when  he  had  met  her  in 
the  street  and  had  recommended  her  a  soporific,  was  ex 
tremely  distinct,  as  well  as  her  behaviour  whenever,  in 
the  course  of  the  past  two  years,  he  had  said  anything  in 
tentionally,  or  not,  which  she  could  construe  as  referring 
to  her  crime.  The  chain  was  complete  from  the  beginning 


PIETEO   GHISLERI.  321 

to  the  end  and  her  present  dangerous  state  was  the 
direct  consequence  of  the  very  first  slander  she  had  cast 
on  Laura  Arden. 

What  G-hisleri  felt  when  he  was  fully  persuaded  that 
Adele  Savelli  had  brought  about  the  death  of  his  best 
friend,  is  not  easily  described.  In  natures  like  his,  the 
desire  for  vengeance  is  very  strong  —  strongest  when 
most  justified.  The  instinct  which  demands  life  for  life  is 
always  present  somewhere  in  the  natural  human  heart 
and,  on  the  whole,  the  great  body  of  human  opinion  has 
in  most  ages  approved  it  and  given  it  shape  in  law  —  or 
sanction,  where  laws  have  been  or  still  are  rudimentary. 
Grhisleri  was  not  therefore  either  unusually  cruel  or  blood 
thirsty  in  wishing  that  Adele  might  expiate  her  crime  to 
the  full.  But  in  this  case,  even  if  capital  punishment  had 
not  been  abolished  in  Italy,  the  law  would  not  have  ap 
plied  it,  and  personal  revenge  without  the  law's  assist 
ance  being  out  of  the  question  in  the  nineteenth  century, 
Pietro  could  hardly  have  invented  a  worse  fate  than 
actually  awaited  his  friend's  murderess.  There  was  a 
grand  logic,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  in  the  implacable  retri 
bution  which  was  pursuing  and  must  before  long  over 
take  Adele  Savelli.  He  could  enjoy  the  whole  satisfac 
tion  of  the  most  complete  vengeance  without  so  much  as 
raising  a  finger  to  hasten  it.  That  was  the  first  result  of 
his  cogitations,  and  he  was  very  well  pleased  with  it. 
He  bought  books  containing  accounts  of  morphinism  and 
calmly  tried  to  calculate  how  long  Adele  had  to  live, 
what  precise  phenomena  her  end  would  exhibit,  and  to 
decide  whether  she  would  lose  her  mind  altogether  before 
the  physical  consumption  of  the  tissues  destroyed  her 
body. 

But  before  long  he  became  disgusted  with  himself,  for 
he  was  not  cruel  by  nature,  though  capable  of  doing  very 
cruel  things  under  the  influence  of  passion.  It  was  prob 
ably  not  from  any  inherent  nobility  of  character,  but 
rather  out  of  the  commonest  pity  combined  with  a  rather 
uncommon  though  material  refinement  of  taste,  that  he  at 


322  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

last  turned  from  his  study  and  contemplation  of  Adele's 
sufferings  and  resolutely  put  her  and  them  out  of  his 
mind. 

"Heaven  can  do  with  her  what  it  pleases.  I  will 
think  no  more  about  it,"  he  said  to  himself  one  day,  and 
the  saying  was  profoundly  characteristic  of  the  man. 

He  had  never  been  an  unbeliever  since  the  last  years 
of  his  boyhood,  when,  like  many  boys  in  our  times,  he  had 
already  fancied  himself  a  man,  and  had  thought  it  manly 
to  believe  in  nothing.  But  such  a  state  of  mind  was  not 
really  natural  to  him,  nor  even  possible  for  any  length  of 
time.  Of  his  intimate  convictions  he  never  spoke,  for 
they  concerned  no  one,  and  no  one  had  a  right  to  judge 
him.  But  that  he  really  had  certain  convictions  no  one 
who  knew  him  well  could  doubt,  and  on  certain  occasions 
they  undeniably  guided  his  actions. 

Laura  Arden  had  not  heard  even  the  faintest  hint 
about  the  lost  letter,  and  it  became  one  of  Ghisleri's  prin 
cipal  occupations  to  keep  the  story  from  her.  She  was, 
of  course,  not  in  the  way  of  hearing  it  unless  some  unusu 
ally  indiscreet  person  should  take  pains  to  acquaint  her 
with  it ;  but  such  people  are  unfortunately  not  uncommon, 
and  Pietro  knew  that  at  any  moment  Laura  might  hear 
something  which  would  make  her  look  at  her  husband's 
death  in  a  new  light.  The  shock  would  be  terrible,  he 
knew,  and  he  did  not  like  to  think  of  it.  He  little  sus 
pected  that  when  the  story  reached  her  ears  it  would  be 
so  distorted  as  to  convey  a  very  different  meaning  to  her, 
nor  did  he  guess  the  part  he  himself  was  to  play  in  what 
followed. 

A  month  and  more  passed  away  without  any  incident 
of  importance.  He  saw  Laura  constantly  and  met  Adele 
occasionally  in  society.  The  latter  always  greeted  him 
with  a  great  affectation  of  cordiality,  but  evidently  avoided 
conversing  with  him  alone.  Her  expression  when  she 
looked  at  him  was  invariably  smiling,  but  the  eyes  which 
had  grown  so  strange  under  the  daily  influence  of  the  poi 
son  had  something  in  them  on  the  rare  occasions  when 


PIETEO   GHISLEKI.  323 

they  met  his  that  might  have  warned  him  had  he  suspected 
danger.  But  he  anticipated  nothing  of  that  sort  for  him 
self.  He  supposed  rather  that  she  felt  herself  to  be  in 
his  power  and  feared  him,  so  that  she  would  carefully 
avoid  doing  anything  which  might  provoke  him.  But  in 
this  he  was  very  much  mistaken.  He  neither  knew  that 
she  believed  her  lost  letter  to  be  in  a  safe  place,  where 
no  one  could  find  it  and  where  it  must  ultimately  turn  to 
dust,  nor  realised  how  far  her  mind  was  already  unbal 
anced.  Still  less  did  he  understand  all  the  causes  for 
which  she  so  sincerely  hated  him.  Even  had  he  felt  that 
she  was  an  active  adversary,  he  would  have  undervalued 
her  power  to  do  him  harm. 

Adele  meditated  her  last  stroke  a  long  time.  Though 
Ghisleri  had  frightened  her  terribly  during  the  conversa 
tion  she  had  herself  asked  for  on  that  memorable  evening 
in  Casa  Montevarchi,  he  had  also  suggested  the  very  idea 
of  which  she  had  long  been  in  search.  She  turned  it  over, 
twisted  it,  so  to  say,  into  every  possible  shape,  and  at  last 
reached  a  definite  plan.  There  was  Already  something  of 
madness  in  the  scheme  she  ultimately  adopted,  and  which 
she  carried  out  with  an  ingenuity  and  secrecy  almost 
beyond  belief. 

Laura  Arden  was  surprised  one  morning  by  receiving  a 
letter  addressed  to  her  in  an  unknown  handwriting,  which 
she  at  once  judged  to  be  that  of  a  woman,  though  it  was 
small,  cramped,  and  irregular. 

"Madam,"  the  letter  began,  "I  apply  to  your  well- 
known  charitable  heart  in  the  greatest  conceivable  dis 
tress.  My  husband,  who  was  for  a  long  time  in  the 
service  of  one  of  the  noblest  Eoman  families  as  a  clerk 
in  the  steward's  office,  lost  his  position  in  the  ruin  which 
has  lately  overtaken  that  most  excellent  house.  He  walks 
the  streets  from  sunrise  to  sunset  in  search  of  employ 
ment,  and  returns  at  night  to  contemplate  the  spectacle 
of  misery  afforded  him  by  his  starving  family.  Misery 
is  upon  us,  and  there  is  no  bread,  nor  even  the  commonest 
food,  such  as  day  labourers  eat,  with  which  to  quiet  the 
piteous  cries  of  our  children." 


324  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

There  followed  much  more  to  the  same  effect.  The 
style  was  quite  that  of  a  woman  of  the  class  to  which  the 
writer  claimed  to  belong,  and  the  appeal  for  help,  though 
couched  in  rather  flowery  language,  had  a  ring  of  truth 
in  it  which  touched  Laura's  heart.  It  had,  indeed,  been 
copied,  with  a  few  alterations,  from  a  genuine  letter  which 
Adele  Savelli  had  chanced  to  receive.  The  concluding 
sentences  stated  that  the  applicant,  who  had  never  known 
poverty  before  was  ashamed,  for  her  husband's  sake,  to 
give  the  name  which  had  so  long  been  respectable.  If 
Lady  Herbert  Arden  was  moved  to  pity  and  would  give 
anything  —  the  very  smallest  charity  —  would  she  put  it 
into  an  envelope  and  send  it  to  'Maria  B.'  addressed  to 
the  general  post-office?" 

Laura  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  slipped  a  five  franc 
note  with  her  card  into  an  envelope  and  addressed  it  as 
requested  in  the  letter.  On  the  next  day  but  one  she 
received  a  second,  full  of  gratitude,  and  expressing  the 
most  humble  and  sincere  thanks  for  the  money,  but  not 
asking  for  anything  more.  This  also  was  copied  from  a 
genuine  communication,  and  the  style  was  unmistakably 
the  same.  Adele  had  answered  the  first  by  sending  a 
larger  sum  than  Laura  had  given,  in  order  that  the  reply 
might  be  relatively  effusive. 

A  week  passed,  and  Laura  heard  no  more  from  Maria 
B.,  and  had  almost  forgotten  the  incident  when  a  third 
letter  came,  imploring  further  assistance.  Laura  was  far 
from  rich,  and  gave  all  she  could  in  the  way  of  charity 
to  such  poor  people  as  she  considered  to  have  an  especial 
claim  upon  her  consideration.  On  this  occasion,  there 
fore,  she  made  no  reply.  This  was  exactly  what  Adele 
expected,  and  suited  her  plan  admirably.  After  a  suffi 
cient  time  had  elapsed  to  make  it  quite  plain  that  Laura 
did  not  intend  to  answer  the  second  appeal,  another  com 
munication  came  through  the  post. 

The  tone  this  time,  was,  if  possible,  more  humble  and 
piteous  than  before.  After  enumerating  and  discanting 
upon  the  horrible  sufferings  the  family  underwent,  and 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  325 

declaring  that  unless  some  charitable  Christian  would 
give  assistance  in  some  shape,  even  were  it  but  a  loaf  of 
bread,  the  whole  household  must  inevitably  perish,  and 
after  adding  that  father,  mother,  and  all  four  children 
—  the  latter  of  tender  age  —  expected  to  be  turned  into  the 
street  by  a  hard-hearted  landlord,  Maria  B.  made  a  dis 
tinct  proposition.  Contemptible  as  it  must  appear  in  the 
eyes  of  a  great  and  rich  English  lady  to  take  advantage 
of  having  discovered  a  secret  in  order  to  beg  a  charity, 
necessity  knows  no  law.  The  ex-clerk  was  in  possession 
of  certain  letters  written  by  a  near  connexion  of  Lady 
Herbert's  to  a  person  with  whom  the  latter  was  intimately 
acquainted,  and  whom,  it  was  commonly  reported,  she  was 
about  to  marry.  These  letters,  five  in  number,  referred 
to  a  transaction  of  a  very  peculiar  nature,  which  it  would 
be  advisable  not  to  make  public,  for  the  sake  of  the  per 
sons  concerned.  It  was  very  far  from  Maria  B.  's  thoughts 
to  degrade  herself  by  setting  a  price  upon  the  documents. 
If  Lady  Herbert  cared  to  possess  them  they  should  be 
hers,  and  any  small  reward  she  might  be  willing  to  give 
would  be  humbly  and  thankfully  accepted.  In  order  that 
she  might  judge  of  the  nature  of  the  letters  in  question, 
Ma,ria  B.  enclosed  a  copy  of  the  one  last  written  before 
the  transaction  alluded  to  had  been  concluded.  Lady 
Herbert  would  be  able  to  understand  the  names  from  the 
initials  used  by  the  copyist. 

Laura,  even  then,  did  not  suspect  in  the  least  what  she 
was  about  to  find.  She  unfolded  the  separate  sheet  which 
had  dropped  from  the  letter  when  she  had  opened  it,  and 
began  to  read  with  an  expression  of  curiosity  and  some 
amusement. 

"  MY  DEAR  G.  :  —  Of  course  I  understand  your  position  perfectly 
and  I  have  known  you  long  enough  to  be  sure  that  you  will  take 
every  advantage  of  it,  short  of  doing  me  an  open  injury,  which 
would  hardly  be  for  your  own  good.  I  know  perfectly  well,  also, 
where  you  found  the  paper  at  Gerano,  for  I  went  to  the  spot  my 
self  to  look  for  it,  and  it  was  gone.  You  had  been  there  before 
me  —  by  chance,  no  doubt,  since  you  could  not  possibly  guess  that 
there  was  anything  there  worth  finding.  It  is  quite  clear  that  if 


326  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

you  really  circulate  that  letter  among  our  mutual  friends,  you  will 
subject  me  to  the  ridicule  of  all  Rome  and  to  an  amount  of  humil 
iation  which  I  am  not  prepared  to  endure.  You  see  I  am  quite 
willing  to  come  to  terms.  But  I  think  your  demand  is  really  out 
of  all  proportion  to  the  circumstances.  A  hundred  thousand 
francs  for  a  miserable  scrap  of  paper !  Absurd,  my  friend.  You 
are  not  the  accomplished  scoundrel  I  took  you  for  if  you  suppose 
that  I  will  pay  that.  Fifty  thousand  is  the  most  I  can  possibly 
offer  you.  If  you  are  satisfied  with  that,  wear  a  gardenia  in  your 
coat  to-night  at  the  Frangipani  dance.  As  for  my  behaviour  in 
public,  you  need  not  warn  me.  I  can  keep  my  countenance 
almost  as  well  as  you.  A.  S." 

The  letter  dropped  from  Laura's  hands  before  she  had 
read  to  the  end.  An  instant  later  she  took  it  up  again 
and  tore  it  to  the  smallest  shreds.  She  had  heard  of 
cases  of  blackmail,  but  never  of  anything  so  infamous  as 
this.  She  did  not  hesitate  long,  but  wrote  within  the 
hour  a  few  lines  to  Maria  B.  in  which  she  warned  the  latter 
not  to  dare  to  proceed  with  her  abominable  fraud,  and 
rather  rashly  threatened  her  with  the  law  if  she  attempted 
anything  further  of  the  same  kind.  As  for  speaking  to 
Ghisleri  about  it,  the  idea  never  crossed  her  thoughts. 

Again  three  days  passed.  Then,  one  morning,  the  post 
brought  a  large  and  rather  bulky  letter,  registered  and 
addressed  in  a  round,  ornate,  clerk's  hand.  Adele  had 
got  the  address  written  at  the  post-office  on  pretence  that 
her  own  handwriting  was  not  legible  enough.  Laura 
supposed  that  the  missive  contained  a  business  communi 
cation  from  her  banker,  and  opened  it  without  the  least 
suspicion.  It  contained  three  greyish-blue  envelopes  of 
the  paper  now  very  commonly  used  for  daily  correspond 
ence.  All  three  were  opened  in  a  peculiar  way,  and  pre 
cisely  as  Laura  had  more  than  once  seen  Ghisleri  open  a 
letter  in  her  presence.  He  had  a  habit  of  tearing  off  a 
very  thin  strip  along  one  edge,  with  so  much  neatness  as 
almost  to  give  the  paper  the  appearance  of  having  been 
cut  with  a  sharp  instrument.  All  three  were  addressed 
to  him,  moreover,  in  Adele  Savelli's  handwriting,  with 
out  any  attempt  at  disguise.  Laura  held  them  in  her 


PIETRO   GHISLEKI.  327 

hand,  turned  them  over,  and  saw  the  tiny  prince's  coronet 
over  a  single  initial  which  Adele  had  used  for  years. 
There  was  no  mistaking  the  authenticity  of  everything 
about  the  envelopes.  Laura's  heart  stood  still.  There 
was  no  word  of  explanation  from  her  former  correspond 
ent,  but  Laura  recollected  that  the  latter  had  said  that 
the  letters  were  five  in  number,  whereas  these  were  only 
three.  It  was  clear  that  the  remaining  two  had  been 
kept  back  as  a  tacit  threat  in  case  the  request  for  money 
were  not  complied  with.  Laura's  first  impulse  was  to 
treat  them  as  she  had  treated  the  copy  Maria  B.  had  at 
first  sent  her,  and  to  tear  them  into  minute  shreds,  with 
out  so  much  as  glancing  at  the  contents.  But  a  moment's 
reflection  made  her  change  her  mind.  She  slipped  them 
all  back  into  the  large  envelope  and  locked  them  up  in 
the  drawer  of  her  writing-table,  putting  the  key  into  her 
pocket.  Then  she  wrote  a  note  to  Ghisleri,  asking  him 
to  come  and  see  her  as  soon  as  possible,  and  despatched 
Donald  with  it  immediately. 

She  sa.t  down  to  wait,  strangely  affected  by  what  had 
happened.  It  is  hardly  to  be  wondered  at,  if  the  whole 
thing  seemed  inexplicable.  Even  at  first  she  could  not 
suspect  Pietro  Ghisleri.  She  would  hardly  have  believed 
him  capable  of  such  an  action  as  he  was  accused  of  had 
she  seen  him  write  the  letters  to  which  these  of  Adele 
were  supposed  to  be  answers.  And  yet  those  answers 
were  there  in  the  drawer,  within  reach  of  her  hand.  She 
had  not  the  slightest  doubt  but  that  the  original  of  which 
she  had  already  seen  a  copy  was  amongst  them.  She 
could  take  it  out  and  read  it  if  she  pleased.  It  was 
damning  evidence  —  but  she  would  not  have  believed  in 
Ghisleri's  guilt  for  twice  as  much  proof  as  that.  The 
one  thing  she  was  forced  to  admit  was  that  Adele  had 
really  written  the  letters,  though  when,  or  for  what  pur 
pose,  or  in  what  connexion,  she  could  not  guess.  The 
whole  thing  might  turn  out  to  be  some  Carnival  jest  car 
ried  on  by  correspondence,  and  of  which  she  had  never 
heard.  That  was  the  only  explanation  she  could  find,  as 
she  waited  for  Pietro  Ghisleri.  He  came  within  the  hour. 


328  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

"Has  anything  happened?"  he  asked,  as  he  took  her 
hand.  "I  thought  there  was  something  anxious  about 
your  note." 

"  Something  very  strange  has  happened,"  she  answered, 
looking  into  his  bright  blue  eyes,  and  acknowledging  for 
the  hundredth  time  that  she  would  believe  him  in  spite 
of  any  testimony  to  the  contrary.  "  Sit  down,"  she  said. 
"  I  have  something  to  give  you  which  seems  to  belong  to 
you.  I  will  tell  you  the  story  afterwards." 

She  opened  the  drawer  again  and  handed  him  the  enve 
lope.  He  looked  at  it  in  surprise. 

"Am  I  to  read  what  is  inside?"  he  asked. 

"See  for  yourself." 

He  took  out  the  letters  and  looked  at  them  as  he  had 
first  looked  at  the  outer  address.  Then,  realising  that 
they  were  addressed  to  himself,  his  expression  changed. 
He  recollected  Adele's  handwriting  though  she  had  rarely 
written  to  him  anything  more  than  an  invitation,  and  he 
knew  the  paper  on  which  she  wrote.  But  where  or  when 
he  had  received  these  particular  ones,  or  how  they  had 
got  into  Laura's  hands,  was  a  mystery. 

"What  are  they?"  he  asked.  "Are  they  old  invita 
tions?  Why  have  they  been  sent  to  you?  " 

"I  believe  them  to  be  forgeries,"  said  Laura,  "or  else 
that  they  refer  to  some  standing  jest  you  and  she  once 
may  have  kept  up  for  a  time.  I  have  not  read  them,  but 
I  have  read  a  copy  of  one  of  them  which  was  sent  me, 
and  I  know  what  they  are  about.  I  will  tell  you  the 
whole  story  afterwards.  See  for  yourself,  as  I  said 
before." 

Ghisleri  drew  out  the  first  sheet. 

"If  they  are  forgeries,  they  are  very  cleverly  done," 
he  said,  with  a  laugh.  "  The  person  has  even  imitated 
my  way  of  opening  a  letter." 

His  face  grew  very  grave,  as  Laura  watched  it  while 
he  was  reading,  and  his  brow  knit  together  angrily.  He 
read  the  second  and  the  third,  and  she  could  see  his  anger 
rising  visibly  in  his  eyes  as  he  silently  looked  at  her  each 


PIETKO   GHISLEBI.  329 

time  he  had  finished  one  of  them.     When  he  had  reached 
the  end  of  the  last  he  did  not  speak  for  some  moments. 

"  Did  you  say  that  you  knew  what  these  letters  were 
about?  "  he  asked  at  length,  in  a  steady,  cold  voice. 

"  I  think  so.  I  read  a  copy  of  one  of  them  almost  with 
out  knowing  what  I  was  doing.  Adele  pretends  that  you 
are  trying  to  get  money  from  her  for  a  letter  of  hers  you 
found  at  Gerano." 

"  Yes,  that  is  what  they  are  about.  It  is  her  doing, 
but  it  is  my  fault." 

"  Your  fault !  "  exclaimed  Laura.  "  But  surely  there 
never  even  was  such  a  letter  as  she  refers  to.  Do  you 
understand  at  all?" 

"  Yes,  I  understand  much  too  well.  She  has  done  this 
for  a  distinct  purpose.  Tell  me  in  the  first  place  one 
thing.  Do  you  still  trust  me  in  the  face  of  such  evidence 
as  this?" 

"  I  trust  you  as  much  as  ever, "  answered  Laura. 

" Thank  you,"  he  said  simply,  and  he  looked  into  her 
deep  eyes  a  moment  before  he  continued.  "  There  are  two 
stories  to  tell,  yours  and  mine.  Tell  yours  first.  Tell 
me  how  you  came  by  the  copy  you  speak  of.  Who  sent 
it  to  you,  and  when?" 

As  briefly  as  she  could,  Laura  gave  him  all  the  details 
she  could  remember  from  the  day  she  had  received  the 
first  request  for  help  from  Maria  B.  It  was  painful  to  her 
to  repeat  what  she  could  of  the  substance  of  the  copy  sent 
her,  but  she  went  through  with  it  to  the  end. 

"  That  letter  is  not  among  these, "  said  Ghisleri,  thought 
fully.  "  It  is  one  of  the  two  which  have  been  kept  back 
for  future  use.  Now  let  me  tell  you  what  I  can  remem 
ber.  Do  not  be  surprised  that  1  should  never  have  told 
you  the  story  before.  Since  you  can  trust  me  in  such  a 
matter  as  this,  you  will  believe  me  when  I  say  that  there 
was  a  good  reason  for  not  telling  you." 

He  gave  a  concise  account  of  the  conversation  which 
had  taken  place  between,  himself  and  Adele  at  the 
Montevarchi's  party,  omitting  only  what  referred  to  his 


330  PIETKO    GHISLERI. 

own  suspi(3ions  concerning  the  manner  of  Arden's  death. 
If  possible,  he  meant  always  to  conceal  that  side  of  the 
question  from  Laura.  But  it  was  necessary  to  tell  her 
something  about  the  document  constantly  mentioned  in 
the  letters. 

"  There  is  a  story  in  circulation,"  he  said,  "  to  the  effect 
that  when  Donna  Adele  was  ill  at  Gerano  nearly  two 
years  ago,  she  was  unwilling  to  confess  to  the  parish 
priest,  and  wrote  a  confession  to  be  sent  to  her  confessor 
in  Rome.  A  servant  stole  it,  says  the  story,  and  it  is 
supposed  to  be  in  existence,  passing  from  hand  to  hand 
in  society.  It  is  quite  possible  that  she  believes  that  I 
bought  it  of  the  thief.  But  I  doubt  even  that.  She  has 
most  probably  regained  possession  of  it  before  attempting 
this  stroke.  And  this  is  almost  what  I  suggested  to  her 
in  a  general  way,  and  laughing,  as  one  way  of  ruining  a 
man.  I  remember  my  own  words  —  an  injury  that  would 
make  a  woman  who  loves  a  man  turn  upon  him.  Substi 
tute  friendship  for  love,  and  the  case  is  almost  identical." 

"Yes,"  Laura  answered  thoughtfully.  "Substitute 
friendship  for  love."  She  hardly  knew  why  she  repeated 
the  words,  and  a  moment  later  a  faint  colour  rose  in  her 
cheeks. 

"  She  has  done  this  thing,  therefore,  with  the  deliberate 
intention  of  ruining  me  in  your  eyes,"  said  Ghisleri. 

"  And  she  has  utterly  failed  to  do  so,  or  even  to  change 
my  opinion  of  you  a  little.  But  it  is  very  well  done. 
There  are  people  who  would  have  been  deceived.  The 
idea  of  forging  —  it  is  not  forging  —  of  writing  imaginary 
letters  to  you  herself  is  masterly." 

"  I  do  not  think  she  is  quite  sane.  The  morphia  she 
takes  is  beginning  to  affect  her  brain.  She  does  not  always 
know  what  she  is  doing." 

"You  take  far  too  merciful  and  charitable  a  view," 
answered  Laura,  with  some  scorn. 

"  No,  on  the  contrary,  if  she  were  quite  what  she  used 
to  be,  she  would  be  more  dangerous  —  she  would  not  make 
mistakes.  Two  or  three  years  ago  she  would  not  have 


PIETRO   GHISLEBI.  331 

gratuitously  thrown  herself  into  danger  as  she  has  now. 
She  would  not  have  made  such  a  failure  as  this." 

"  And  what  a  failure  it  is !  Do  you  know?  It  was  very 
puzzling  at  first.  To  know  positively  that  you  never 
could  have  received  those  letters,  and  yet  to  see  that  they 
are  still  in  existence,  addressed  to  you,  and  opened  in 
your  peculiar  way.  I  felt  as  though  I  were  in  a  dream." 

"I  wonder  you  did  not  feel  inclined  to  believe  me 
guilty.  The  evidence  was  almost  as  strong  as  it  could 
be.  In  your  position  I  should  have  hesitated." 

"Would  you  have  believed  such  a  thing  of  me,  if  it 
had  been  just  as  it  is,  only  if  the  letters  had  gone  to  you 
instead  of  to  me?"  asked  Laura. 

"  Certainly  not ! "  exclaimed  Ghisleri,  with  strong 
emphasis.  "That  would  be  quite  another  matter." 

"I  do  not  see  that  it  would.  You  would  have  been 
exactly  in  my  position,  as  you  hinted  a  moment  ago." 

"  I  was  not  thinking  of  you.  The  day  I  do  not  believe 
in  you  I  shall  not  believe  in  God.  You  are  the  last 
thing  I  have  left  to  believe  in  —  and  the  best,  my  dear 
friend." 

He  was  very  much  in  earnest,  as  Laura  knew  from  the 
tone  of  his  voice.  But  she  would  not  look  at  him  just 
then,  because  she  felt  that  he  was  looking  at  her,  and  she 
preferred  that  their  eyes  should  not  meet. 

"Will  you  do  anything  about  this?"  she  asked,  after 
a  pause,  and  not  referring  to  what  he  had  last  said. 
"Will  you  destroy  those  vile  things?" 

"  Since  they  are  addressed  to  me,  I  suppose  I  have  a 
right  to  do  so,"  answered  Ghisleri,  and  he  began  slowly 
to  tear  up  the  sheets  of  the  first  letter. 

"There  can  be  no  doubt  about  their  being  genuine?" 
asked  Laura,  with  sudden  emotion. 

"  Not  at  all,  I  should  say.  But  you  are  the  best  judge 
of  that.  You  should  know  her  handwriting  better  than  I. 
If  you  like,"  he  added,  with  a  short  laugh,  "I  will  go 
and  show  them  to  her  and  ask  her  if  she  wrote  them, 
Shall  I?" 


332  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

"Oh,  no!  Do  not  do  that!"  exclaimed  Laura,  who 
knew  that  he  was  quite  capable  of  following  such  a  course 
as  he  suggested. 

There  was  apparently  nothing  to  be  done.  Laura 
believed  that  any  attempt  to  make  use  of  the  two  remain 
ing  letters  would  be  as  abortive  as  the  first,  and  there 
could  certainly  be  no  use  in  keeping  those  which  had  been 
sent.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  possible  that  if  they  were 
preserved,  chance  might  throw  them  into  hands  in  which 
they  might  become  far  more  dangerous  than  they  were. 

"Shall  I  write  to  Maria  B.,  whoever  she  is?"  asked 
Laura. 

"You  might  send  her  another  five  francs,"  answered 
Ghisleri,  grimly.  "It  would  show  her  how  much  you 
value  the  documents  she  has  for  sale." 

"  I  will, "  said  Laura,  with  a  laugh.  "  How  furious  she 
will  be!  Of  course  it  is  Adele  who  gets  these  things." 

"Of  course.     Five  francs  is  quite  enough." 

And  Laura,  little  knowing  or  guessing  how  it  would  be 
used  against  her,  sent  a  five-franc  note  with  her  card  in 
an  envelope  and  addressed  it.  On  the  card  she  had 
written  in  pencil,  "For  Maria  B.,  with  best  thanks." 

"  There  is  one  other  thing  I  would  like  to  do, "  she  said. 
"But  I  do  not  know  whether  you  would  approve.  It 
would  give  me  such  satisfaction  —  you  know  I  am  only  a 
woman,  after  all." 

"  What  is  that?  "  asked  Ghisleri,  "  and  why  should  you 
need  my  approval?" 

"  Only  this.  To-morrow,  and  perhaps  the  next  day, 
when  she  is  quite  sure  I  must  have  received  those  letters, 
I  would  like  to  drive  with  you  in  an  open  carriage  where 
we  should  be  sure  to  meet  Adele.  I  would  give  anything 
to  see  her  face." 

Ghisleri  laughed.  The  womanly  side  of  Laura's  nature 
was  becoming  more  apparent  of  late,  and  its  manifesta 
tions  pleased  and  surprised  him.  He  thought  Laura 
would  hardly  have  seemed  human  if  she  had  not  wished 
to  let  Adele  see  how  completely  the  attempt  had  failed 
which  she  had  so  ingeniously  planned  and  carried  out. 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  333 

"If  anything  would  make  the  town  talk,  that  would," 
he  answered.  "  The  only  way  to  manage  it  would  be  to 
get  the  Princess  to  go  with  you  and  then  take  me  as  —  " 
He  stopped  short,  rather  awkwardly. 

"I  should  rather  go  without  her,7'  said  Laura,  turning 
her  face  away  to  hide  her  amusement  at  the  slip  of  the 
tongue  of  which  he  had  been  guilty. 

In  Rome,  for  Ghisleri  to  be  seen  driving  with  the  Prin 
cess  of  Gerano  and  her  daughter  would  have  been  almost 
equivalent  to  announcing  his  engagement  to  Laura. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

ADELE  had  not  anticipated  such  complete  failure  in 
the  first  instance.  The  five-franc  note  with  Laura  Arden's 
card  told  her  plainly  enough  what  her  step-sister  thought 
of  the  matter,  but  she  had  no  means  of  finding  out 
whether  Ghisleri  had  been  informed  of  what  she  had  done 
or  not,  and  her  efforts  to  extract  information  from  him 
when  she  met  him  were  not  successful.  His  tone  and  his 
manner  towards  her  were  precisely  the  same  as  formerly, 
and  he  was  as  ready  as  ever  to  enter  into  desultory  con 
versation  with  her;  but  if  she  ventured  to  lead  the  talk 
in  such  a  direction  as  to  find  out  what  she  wanted  to 
know,  he  instantly  met  her  with  a  counter-allusion  to  her 
doings  which  frightened  her  and  silenced  her  effectually. 
So  the  months  passed  in  a  sort  of  petty  skirmishing  which 
led  to  no  positive  result,  and  she  secretly  planned  some 
further  step  which  should  complete  those  she  had  already 
taken,  reverse  Laura's  judgment,  and  completely  ruin 
Pietro  Ghisleri  with  her  and  before  the  world.  The 
uneasy  workings  of  her  unsettled  brain  grew  more  and 
more  tortuous  every  day,  until  at  last  she  felt  unable  to 
reason  the  question  out  without  the  help  of  some  experi 
enced  person.  She  felt  quite  sure  that  there  must  be 


334  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

some  way  out  of  all  her  difficulties,  by  a  short  cut  to 
victory,  and  that  a  clever  man,  a  good  lawyer,  for  instance, 
if  he  could  be  deceived  into  believing  the  story  she  had 
concocted,  would  know  how  to  make  use  of  it  against  her 
enemies.  The  difficulty  was  two-fold.  In  the  first  place 
she  must  put  together  such  a  body  of  evidence  as  no 
experienced  advocate  could  refuse  as  ground  for  an  action 
at  law,  and,  secondly,  she  must  find  the  said  advocate 
and  explain  the  whole  matter  to  him  from  her  own  point 
of  view.  The  action  would  be  brought  in  self-defence 
against  Pietro  Ghisleri,  who  would  be  accused  of  having 
systematically  attempted  to  levy  blackmail.  That  was 
the  crude  form  in  which  the  idea  suggested  itself  to  Adele 
when  she  set  to  work. 

Her  conviction  now  was  that  Pietro  was  only  partially 
aware  of  the  substance  of  the  lost  confession,  and  that 
the  letter  containing  it  was  still  at  Gerano.  This  being 
the  case,  she  could  freely  speak  of  it  to  her  lawyer  and 
describe  the  contents  in  any  way  she  pleased,  so  as  to  turn 
the  existence  of  the  document  to  her  own  advantage.  In 
the  letters  she  had  sent  Laura  and  in  the  other  two  which 
she  kept  by  her  for  future  use,  she  had  been  careful  never 
to  say  anything  conclusive.  Maria  B.  had  indeed  spoken 
of  the  transaction  as  being  ended,  but  that  could  be  inter 
preted  as  the  unfounded  supposition  of  a  person  not  fully 
acquainted  with  the  facts,  and  desirous  of  making  money 
out  of  them  as  far  as  possible.  The  hardest  thing  would 
probably  be  to  produce  the  woman  who  was  supposed  to 
have  written  to  Laura,  in  case  she  should  be  needed. 
Money  well  bestowed,  however,  would  do  much  towards 
stimulating  the  memory  of  some  indigent  and  unscrupu 
lous  person,  and  the  part  to  be  played  would,  after  all, 
be  a  small  and  insignificant  one.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
weak  point  in  the  case  would  be  that  Adele,  while  able 
to  produce  an  unlimited  number  of  her  own  letters  to 
Ghisleri,  would  not  have  a  single  line  of  his  writing  to 
show.  She  could,  indeed,  fall  back  upon  her  own  natural 
sense  of  caution,  and  declare  that  she  had  destroyed  all 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  335 

he  had  written,  in  the  mistaken  belief  that  it  would  be 
safer  to  do  so,  and  her  lawyer  could  taunt  his  opponent 
with  his  folly  in  not  doing  likewise;  but  that  would, 
after  all,  be  rather  a  poor  expedient.  Or  it  might  be 
pretended  that  Pietro  had  invariably  written  to  her  in  a 
feigned  handwriting  signing  himself,  perhaps,  with  a 
single  initial,  as  a  precaution  in  case  his  letters  should 
fall  into  the  wrong  hands.  In  that  case  she  could  pro 
duce  whatever  she  chose.  The  best  possible  plan  would 
be  to  extract  one  or  two  short  notes  from  him  upon  which 
an  ambiguous  construction  might  be  put  by  the  lawyers. 
All  this,  Adele  reflected,  would  need  considerable  time, 
and  several  months  must  elapse  before  she  could  expect 
to  be  ready.  Her  mind,  too,  worked  spasmodically,  and 
she  was  subject  to  long  fits  of  apathy  and  extreme  depres 
sion  in  the  intervals  between  her  short  hours  of  abnormal 
activity.  She  knew  that  this  was  the  result  of  the  mor 
phia  she  took  in  such  quantities,  and  she  resolved  to 
make  a  great  effort  to  cure  herself  of  the  fatal  habit,  if  it 
were  not  already  too  late. 

As  has  been  said  more  than  once,  Adele  Savelli  had 
possessed  a  very  determined  will,  and  it  had  not  yet  been 
altogether  destroyed.  Having  once  made  up  her  mind 
to  free  herself  if  she  could,  she  made  the  attempt  bravely 
and  systematically.  The  result  was  that,  in  the  course 
of  several  months,  she  had  reduced  the  amount  of  her 
daily  doses  very  considerably.  The  suffering  was  great, 
but  the  object  to  be  gained  was  great  also,  and  she  steeled 
herself  to  endure  all  that  a  woman  could.  She  was 
encouraged,  also,  by  the  fact  that  her  mind  began  to  act 
more  regularly  and  seemed  more  reliable.  Physically, 
she  was  growing  very  weak  and  was  becoming  almost 
emaciated.  Francesco  Savelli  watched  her  narrowly, 
and  it  was  his  opinion  that  she  could  not  last  long.  The 
Prince  of  G-erano  was  very  anxious  about  her  all  through 
the  spring  which  followed  the  events  last  described,  and 
his  wife,  though  she  was  far  less  fond  of  Adele  than  in 
former  times,  could  not  but  feel  a  sorrowful  regret  as 


336  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

she  saw  the  young  life  that  had  begun  so  brightly  wear 
ing  itself  away  before  her  eyes.  But  the  Princess  had 
consolations  in  another  direction.  Laura  Arden  seemed 
to  grow  daily  more  lovely  in  her  mature  beauty,  and  Her 
bert  was  growing  out  of  his  babyhood  into  a  sturdy  little 
boy  of  phenomenal  strength  and  of  imperturbably  good 
temper.  Laura  was  headstrong  where  Ghisleri  was  con 
cerned,  but  in  all  other  respects  she  was  herself  still. 

The  first  consequence  of  Adele's  attempt  to  break  the 
strong  friendship  which  united  Laura  and  Pietro,  was  to 
draw  them  still  more  closely  together,  and  to  make  Laura, 
at  least,  more  defiant  of  the  world's  opinion  than  ever. 
As  for  Ghisleri,  he  almost  forgot  to  ask  himself  questions. 
The  time  to  separate  for  the  summer  was  drawing  near, 
and  he  knew,  when  he  thought  of  it,  what  a  different 
parting  this  one  would  be  from  the  one  which  had  pre 
ceded  it  a  year  earlier.  But  he  tried  to  think  of  the 
present  and  not  of  the  weary  months  of  solitude  he  looked 
forward  to  between  June  and  November  or  December. 
He  remembered,  in  spite  of  himself,  how  he  had  more 
than  once  enjoyed  the  lonely  life,  even  refusing  invita 
tions  to  pleasant  places  rather  than  lose  a  single  week  of 
an  existence  so  full  of  charm.  But  another  interest  had 
been  growing,  slowly,  deep-sown,  spreading  its  roots  in 
silence,  and  fastening  itself  about  his  heart  while  he  had 
not  even  suspected  that  it  was  there  at  all.  Little  by 
little,  without  visible  manifestation,  the  strong  thing  had 
drawn  more  strength  from  his  own  life,  mysteriously 
absorbing  into  itself  the  springs  of  thought  and  the  sources 
of  emotion,  unifying  them  and  assimilating  them  all  into 
something  which  was  a  part,  and  was  soon  to  be  the  chief 
part,  of  his  being.  And  now,  above  the  harrowed  surface 
of  that  inner  ground  on  which  such  fierce  battles  had 
been  fought  throughout  his  years  of  storm,  a  soft  shoot 
raised  its  delicate  head,  not  timidly,  but  quietly  and 
unobtrusively,  to  meet  the  warm  sunshine  of  the  happier 
days  to  come.  He  saw  it,  and  knew  it,  and  held  his 
peace,  dreading  it  and  yet  loving  it,  for  it  was  love  itself; 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  337 

but  not  knowing  truly  what  the  little  blade  would  come 
to,  whether  it  was  to  bloom  all  at  once  into  a  bright  and 
poisonous  flower  of  evil,  bringing  to  him  the  death  of 
all  possible  love  for  ever;  or  whether  it  would  grow  up 
slowly,  calm  and  fair,  from  leaf  to  shrub,  from  shrub  to 
sapling,  from  sapling  at  last  to  tree,  straight,  tall,  and 
strong,  able  to  face  tempest  and  storm  without  bending 
its  lofty  head,  rich  to  bear  for  him  in  the  end  the  stately 
blossom  and  the  heavenly  fruit  of  passionate  true  love. 

For  before  the  day  of  parting  came  Pietro  Ghisleri 
knew  that  he.loved  Laura  Arden.  Ever  since  that  moment 
when  she  had  quietly  given  him  Adele's  letter  and  had 
told  him  that  she  would  believe  no  evil  of  him,  he  had 
begun  to  suspect  that  she  was  no  longer  what  she  had  been 
to  him  once  and  what  she  had  remained  so  long,  a  friend, 
kind,  almost  affectionate,  for  whom  he  would  give  all  he 
had,  but  only  a  friend  after  all.  It  was  different  now. 
The  thought  of  bidding  Laura  good-bye,  even  for  a  few 
months,  sent  a  thrill  of  pain  through  his  heart  which  he 
had  not  expected  to  feel  —  the  small,  sharp  pain  which 
tells  a  man  the  truth  about  a  woman  and  himself  as  noth 
ing  else  can.  The  prospect  of  the  lonely  summer  was 
dreary. 

Ghisleri  was  surprised,  and  almost  startled.  During 
nearly  two  years  and  a  half  he  had  honestly  believed  that 
he  could  never  love  again,  and  if  a  sincere  wish,  formu 
lated  in  the  shape  he  unconsciously  chose,  could  be  called 
a  prayer,  he  earnestly  prayed  that  so  long  as  he  lived  he 
might  not  feel  what  he  had  felt  very  strongly  twice,  at 
least,  since  he  had  been  a  boy.  But  such  a  man  could 
hardly  expect  that  such  a  wish,  or  prayer,  could  be 
granted  or  heard,  so  long  as  he  was  spending  many  hours 
of  each  succeeding  week  in  the  company  of  Laura  Arden. 
In  the  full  strength  of  manhood,  passionate,  sensitive 
beneath  a  cold  exterior,  always  attracted  by  women,  and 
almost  always  repelled  by  men,  Pietro  Ghisleri  could 
hardly  expect  that  in  one  moment  the  capacity  for  loving 
should  be  wholly  rooted  out  and  destroyed  by  something 


338  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

like  an  act  of  will,  and  as  the  consequence  of  his  being 
disappointed  and  disgusted  by  his  own  fickleness.  The 
new  passion  might  turn  out  to  be  greater  or  less  than  the 
two  which  had  hitherto  disturbed  his  existence,  but  it 
could  hardly  be  greater  than  the  first.  It  would  neces 
sarily  be  different  from  either,  in  that  it  would  be  hope 
less  from  the  beginning,  as  he  thought.  For  where  he 
was  very  sincere,  he  was  rarely  very  confident  in  him 
self,  if  the  stake  was  woman's  love,  a  fact  more  common 
with  men  who  are  at  once  sensitive  and  strong  than  is 
generally  known. 

But  his  first  impulse  was  not  to  go  away  and  escape 
from  the  temptation,  as  it  would  have  been  some  time 
earlier.  There  was  no  reason  for  doing  that,  as  he  had 
reflected  before,  when  he  had  considered  the  advisability 
of  breaking  off  all  intercourse  with  Laura  for  the  sake  of 
silencing  the  world's  idle  chatter.  He  was  perfectly  free 
to  love  her,  and  to  tell  her  so,  if  he  chose.  No  one  could 
blame  him  for  wishing  to  marry  her;  at  most  he  might 
be  thought  foolish  for  desiring  anything  so  very  improb 
able  as  that  she  should  accept  him.  But  he  was  quite 
indifferent  to  what  any  one  might  think  of  him  excepting 
Laura  herself.  One  resolution  only  he  made  and  did  his 
best  to  keep,  and  it  was  a  good  one.  He  made  up  his 
mind  that  he  would  not  make  love  to  her,  as  he  under 
stood  the  meaning  of  the  term.  Possibly,  as  he  told 
himself  with  a  little  scorn,  this  was  no  resolution  at  all, 
but  only  a  way  of  expressing  his  conviction  that  he  was 
quite  unable  to  do  what  he  so  magnanimously  refused  to 
attempt.  For  his  instinct  told  him  that  his  love  for 
Laura  had  already  taken  a  shape  which  differed  wholly 
from  all  former  passions,  one  unfamiliar  to  him,  one 
which  would  need  a  new  expression  if  it  continued  to  be 
sincere.  But  that  he  doubted.  He  was  quite  ready  to 
admit  that  when  Laura  came  back  in  the  autumn,  this 
early  beginning  of  love  would  have  disappeared  again, 
and  that  the  old  strong  friendship  would  be  found  in  its 
place,  solid,  firmly  based,  and  unchanged,  a  permanent 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  339 

happiness  and  a  constant  satisfaction.  He  was  no  longer 
a  boy,  to  imagine  that  the  first  breath  of  love  was  the 
forerunner  of  an  all-destroying  storm  in  which  he  must 
perish,  or  of  a  clear,  fair  wind  before  which  the  ship  of 
his  life  was  to  run  her  straight  course  to  the  haven  of 
death's  peace.  He  had  seen  too  much  fickleness  in  him 
self  and  in  others  to  believe  in  any  such  thing;  but  if  he 
had  anticipated  either  it  would  have  been  the  tempest. 
On  the  whole,  he  did  the  wisest  thing  he  could.  He 
changed  nothing  in  his  manner  towards  Laura  and  he 
waited  as  calmly  as  he  was  able,  to  see  what  the  end 
would  be.  Once  only  before  Laura  went  away  the  con 
versation  turned  upon  love,  and  oddly  enough  it  was 
Laura  who  brought  up  the  subject. 

She  had  been  talking  about  little  Herbert,  as  she  often 
did,  planning  out  his  future  according  to  her  own  wishes 
and  making  it  happy  in  her  own  way,  even^to  sketching 
the  wife  he  was  to  win  some  five  and  twenty  years  hence. 
" I  should  like  her  to  be  very  fair,"  she  said.  "  Herbert 
will  be  dark,  as  I  am,  and  they  say  that  contrasts  attract 
each  other  most  permanently.  But  of  course,  though  she 
must  be  beautiful,  she  must  have  ever  so  many  other 
good  points  besides.  In  the  first  place,  she  must  be 
capable  of  loving  him  with  all  her  heart  and  soul.  I 
suppose  that  is  really  the  hardest  thing  of  all  to  find." 

"The  ' one-great-passion '  sort  of  person,  you  mean,  I 
fancy,"  observed  Ghisleri,  with  a  smile.  "  A  rare  bird  — 
I  agree  with  you." 

"I  doubt  whether  the  individual  exists,"  said  Laura. 
"Except  by  accident,  or  when  the  course  of  true  love 
runs  so  very  smoothly  that  it  would  need  superhuman 
ingenuity  to  fall  off  it." 

"  You  are  a  constant  revelation  to  me !  "  Ghisleri 
laughed,  and  looked  at  her. 

"What  is  there  surprising  about  what  I  said?  You 
are  not  a  believer  in  the  universal  stability  of  the  human 
heart,  are  you?" 

"Hardly  that!     But  women  very  often  are  —  at  first. 


840  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

And  then,  when  they  see  that  change  is  possible,  they 
are  apt  to  say  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  true  love  at 
all,  whereas  we  know  that  there  is." 

"  In  other  words,  you  think  that  I  take  the  sensible 
view.  After  all,  what  is  the  use  of  expecting  humanity 
to  be  superhuman?" 

"I  always  like  the  way  in  which  you  put  things,"  said 
Ghisleri,  thoughtfully.  "  That  is  exactly  it.  Homo  sum. 
I  am  neither  angel,  nor  ape,  but  man,  and  at  present,  I 
believe,  no  near  relation  of  the  seraph  or  the  monkey." 

"  And  as  a  man,  changeable.  So  am  I,  as  a  woman,  I 
have  no  doubt.  Every  one  must  be,  and  I  do  not  think 
it  is  fair  to  respect  people  who  do  not  change  at  all  because 
they  never  have  the  chance." 

"One  cannot  help  it.  Human  nature  instinctively 
places  the  man  who  has  only  loved  once  above  the  man 
who  has  shown  that  he  can  love  often.  It  is  connected 
with  the  idea  of  faith  and  loyalty." 

"  Often  —  that  is  too  much.  There  comes  the  question 
of  the  limit.  How  often  can  a  man  love  sincerely?" 

"Three  times  —  not  more,"  answered  Ghisleri,  with 
conviction. 

"Why  not  two,  or  four?  How  can  you  lay  down  the 
law  in  that  way?" 

"It  is  very  simple.  I  think  that  no  love  is  worth  the 
name  which  does  not  influence  a  man  strongly  for  at  least 
ten  years.  Any  really  great  passion  will  do  that.  But 
human  life  is  short.  Let  a  man  fall  in  love  at  twenty, 
and  three  periods  of  ten  years  each  will  bring  him  to  fifty. 
A  man  who  falls  in  love  after  he  is  fifty  is  a  rarity,  and 
generally  an  object  of  ridicule.  That  seems  to  me  a 
logical  demonstration,  and  I  do  not  see  why  it  should  not 
apply  to  a  woman  as  well  as  to  a  man." 

"  Yes,  I  think  there  is  truth  in  that,"  said  Laura.  "  At 
all  events,  it  looks  true.  Besides,  there  is  something 
quite  reasonable  in  the  idea  that  a  man  naturally  has 
three  stages,  when  he  is  twenty  years  old,  thirty,  and 
forty.  I  should  imagine  that  the  middle  stage,  while  he 
is  still  developing,  might  be  the  shortest." 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  341 

It  was  impossible  for  G-hisleri  to  imagine  that  Laura 
was  referring  to  his  own  life,  but  the  remark  was  cer 
tainly  very  applicable  to  himself,  so  far.  Would  the 
third  stage  be  permanent,  if  he  really  reached  it?  He 
was  inclined  to  think  that  nothing  about  him  had  much 
stability,  for  within  the  last  two  years  he  had  come  to 
accept  the  fact  as  something  which  was  part  of  his  nature 
and  from  which  there  was  no  escape,  despise  the  weak 
ness  and  hate  it  as  he  would.  It  was  a  singular  coinci 
dence  that  since  he  had  tormented  himself  less  he  had 
become  really  less  changeable. 

A  month  later  he  parted  from  Laura,  to  all  outward 
appearances  as  quietly  and  calmly  as  in  the  previous  year. 
If  there  were  any  difference,  it  was  in  her  manner  rather 
than  in  his.  She  said  almost  sadly  that  she  was  sorry 
the  time  had  come,  and  that  she  looked  forward  to  the 
meeting  in  the  autumn  as  to  one  of  the  pleasantest  things 
in  the  future.  The  words  she  spoke  were  almost  com 
monplace,  though  even  if  taken  literally  they  conveyed 
more  than  she  had  ever  said  before.  But  it  was  quite 
clear  that  she  meant  more  than  she  said. 

When  she  was  gone  Ghisleri  felt  more  lonely  than  he 
had  for  years,  and  every  interest  seemed  to  have  died  out 
of  his  existence.  He  tried  to  laugh  at  himself  for  turn 
ing  into  a  boy  again,  but  even  that  diversion  failed  him. 
He  could  not  even  find  the  bitter  words  it  had  once 
amused  him,  in  a  grim  way,  to  put  together.  Then  he 
left  Rome,  weary  of  the  sights  and  sounds  of  the  streets, 
of  the  solitude  of  his  rooms,  of  the  effort  to  show  some 
intelligence  when  he  was  obliged  to  talk  with  an  acquain 
tance.  He  went  to  his  own  place  in  Tuscany  and  passed 
his  time  in  trying  to  improve  the  condition  of  things. 
He  knew  something  of  practical  architecture,  and  he 
rebuilt  a  staircase,  and  restored  the  vaulting  in  a  part  of 
the  little  castle  to  which  he  had  never  done  anything 
before,  and  which  had  gone  to  ruin  during  the  last  hun 
dred  years  or  more,  since  it  had  last  been  inhabited.  For 
he;  his  father,  and  his  grandfather  had  been  only  sons, 


342  PIETKO   GHISLERI. 

and  his  mother  having  died  when  he  was  a  mere  boy,  his 
father  had  taken  a  dislike  to  Torre  de'  Ghisleri  and  had 
lived  the  remainder  of  his  short  life  in  Florence.  Hence 
the  general  dilapidation  of  the  old  place  which  was  not, 
however,  without  beauty.  The  occupation  did  him  good, 
and  the  sight  of  the  old  familiar  faces  of  his  tenants  and 
few  retainers  was  pleasant,  after  facing  the  museum  of 
society  masks  during  seven  months  and  more.  But  he 
felt  that  even  here  he  could  not  stay  any  great  length  of 
time  without  a  change,  and  as  the  summer  advanced  his 
restlessness  became  extreme. 

He  came  down  to  Home  for  a  week  in  August.  The 
first  person  he  met  in  the  street  was  Francesco  Savelli, 
who  stopped  to  speak  with  him.  Ghisleri  never  volun 
tarily  stopped  any  one. 

"How  is  Donna  Adele?"  he  asked,  after  they  had 
exchanged  the  first  greetings. 

"Very  nervous,"  answered  Savelli,  shaking  his  head 
with  the  air  of  concern  he  thought  it  proper  to  affect 
whenever  he  spoke  of  his  wife's  illness.  "The  nerves 
are  something  which  no  one  can  understand.  I  can  tell 
you  a  story,  for  instance,  about  something  which  hap 
pened  the  other  day  —  to  be  accurate,  in  June,  when  we 
were  at  Gerano.  Do  you  remember  the  oubliette  between 
the  guard-room  and  the  tower?  Yes  —  my  wife  said  she 
showed  it  to  you.  We  were  all  staying  together  —  all 
the  children,  her  father,  and  the  Princess  and  two  or  three 
friends.  One  morning  she  said  she  was  quite  sure  that 
if  we  took  up  that  slab  of  stone  and  lowered  a  man  into 
the  shaft,  we  should  find  a  skeleton  hanging  there  — 
Heaven  knows  what  she  imagined!  The  Prince  said  he 
had  looked  into  the  shaft  scores  of  times  when  the  trap 
door  still  existed  and  there  was  a  bar  across  the  passage 
to  prevent  any  one  from  going  near ;  that  he  himself  had 
ordered  the  stone  to  be  put  where  it  was  and  knew  all 
about  the  place.  The  only  skeleton  ever  found  in  the 
castle  had  been  discovered  walled  up  in  the  thickness  of 
the  north  tower,  with  a  little  window  just  opposite  the 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  343 

face,  so  that  the  individual  must  have  died  looking  at  the 
hills.  Nobody  knew  anything  about  it.  But  my  wife 
insisted,  and  grew  angry,  and  at  last  furious.  It  was  of 
no  use,  of  course.  You  know  the  old  gentleman  —  he 
can  be  perfectly  rigid.  He  answered  that  no  one  should 
touch  the  stone,  that  if  she  yielded  to  such  ideas  once, 
she  would  soon  wish  to  pull  Gerano  to  pieces  to  count  the 
mice,  and  that  if  she  could  persuade  my  father  to  knock 
holes  in  the  walls  at  Castel  Savello,  that  was  the  affair 
of  the  Savelli,  but  that  so  long  as  he  lived  she  should  not 
make  any  experiments  in  excavation  under  his  roof.  If 
you  will  believe  me,  she  had  a  fit  of  anger  which  brought 
on  an  attack  of  the  nerves,  and  she  never  went  out  of  her 
room  for  three  days  in  consequence.  Do  you  wonder  that 
I  am  anxious?" 

"  Certainly  not.  It  would  be  amazing  if  you  were 
indifferent.  The  story  gives  one  the  idea  that  she  is 
subject  to  delusions.  I  am  very  sorry  she  is  no  better. 
Pray  remember  me  to  her." 

Thereupon  Grhisleri  passed  on,  inwardly  wondering  how 
long  it  would  be  before  Adele  became  quite  mad.  Two 
days  later  he  received  a  note  from  her.  She  had  heard 
from  her  husband  that  he  was  in  Rome,  she  said,  and 
wrote  to  ask  a  great  favour  of  him.  He  was  doubtless 
aware  of  her  father's  passion  for  manuscripts,  which  was 
well  known  in  Rome.  It  was  reported  that  a  certain 
dealer  had  bought  Prince  Monte  varchi's  library  after  the 
crash,  and  she  very  much  wished  to  buy  a  very  interesting 
manuscript  of  which  she  had  often  heard  her  father  speak, 
and  which  contained  an  account  of  the  famous,  or  infa 
mous,  Isabella  Monte  varchi's  life,  written  with  her  own 
hand  —  a  sort  of  confession,  in  fact.  As  she  did  not  know 
the  exact  title  of  the  document,  if  it  had  any,  she  would 
call  it  a  confession,  though,  of  course,  in  a  strictly  lay 
sense.  Now,  she  inquired,  would  Ghisleri,  for  old  friend 
ship's  sake,  try  to  obtain  it  for  her  at  a  reasonable  price? 
She  knew,  of  course,  that  such  an  original  would  be  expen 
sive,  but  she  was  prepared  to  discuss  the  terms  if  not 


344  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

wholly  beyond  her  means.  She  sent  her  note  by  the  car 
rier,  as  that  was  generally  quicker  than  writing  by  the 
post,  she  said.  Would  Ghisleri  kindly  answer  by  the 
same  means?  The  man  would  call  again  on  the  next  day 
but  one.  That  would  perhaps  give  time  to  make  prelim 
inary  inquiries.  With  which  observation,  and  with  best 
thanks  in  anticipation  of  the  service  he  was  about  to 
render,  Adele  called  herself  most  sincerely  his. 

Ghisleri  was  not  an  extremely  suspicious  man,  but  he 
would  have  given  evidence  of  almost  infantine  simplicity 
if  he  had  not  seen  that  there  was  something  wrong  about 
Adele's  note.  It  was  certainly  very  well  planned,  and 
if  Laura  had  never  shown  him  the  letters  Adele  had  sent 
her,  it  might  very  possibly  have  succeeded.  On  ascer 
taining  the  price  set  by  the  dealer  on  the  manuscript,  he 
would  probably  have  written  a  few  words,  stating  in  a 
business-like  way  the  sum  for  which  the  so-called  con 
fession  could  be  bought.  In  all  likelihood,  too,  he  would 
have  only  dated  his  note  by  the  day  of  the  week,  omitting 
altogether  the  month  and  the  year.  He  saw  at  a  glance 
how  easily  a  communication  of  that  kind  might  have 
taken  such  a  shape  as  to  be  very  serviceable  against  him, 
and  how  hard  it  might  have  been  to  show  that  he  was 
writing  about  a  genuine  transaction  concerning  a  manu 
script  actually  for  sale.  He  determined  to  be  very  careful. 

His  first  step  was  to  find  out  the  name  of  the  dealer 
who  had  bought  the  Montevarchi  library.  He  next  ascer 
tained  that  what  Adele  wanted  was  still  unsold,  and  that 
he  must  therefore  necessarily  enter  into  correspondence 
with  her.  After  that  he  sought  out  a  young  lawyer  whom 
he  had  employed  once  or  twice  within  the  last  few  years 
when  he  had  needed  legal  advice  in  regard  to  some  trifling 
point,  and  laid  the  whole  matter  before  him.  This  young 
man,  Ubaldini  by  name,  had  rapidly  acquired  a  reputa 
tion  as  a  criminal  lawyer,  and  had  successfully  defended 
some  remarkable  cases,  but,  as  he  justly  observed, 
acquitted  prisoners  of  the  classes  in  which  crimes  are 
common,  pay  very  little,  and  condemned  criminals  pay 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  345 

nothing  at  all.  He  was  therefore  under  the  necessity 
of  taking  other  kinds  of  business  as  a  means  of  support. 
The  last  murderer  who  had  escaped  the  law  by  Ubaldini's 
eloquence  had  sent  him  a  bag  of  beans  and  a  cream  cheese, 
which  was  all  the  family  could  afford  in  the  way  of  a  fee, 
but  upon  which  a  barrister  who  had  a  taste  for  variety 
could  not  subsist  any  length  of  time. 

Ghisleri  explained  at  considerable  length  the  whole 
story,  as  far  as  it  has  been  told  in  these  pages,  and  ex 
pressed  the  belief  that  Donna  Adele  Savelli  was  intent 
upon  ruining  him  for  what,  after  all,  seemed  very  insuffi 
cient  reasons. 

"When  a  woman  lives  on  morphia  and  the  fear  of 
discovery,  instead  of  food  and  drink,  I  would  not  give 
much  for  the  soundness  of  any  of  her  reasons,"  said 
Ubaldini,  with  a  laugh.  "What  shall  we  do  with  the 
Princess?  Shall  we  convict  her  of  homicide,  or  bring 
an  action  for  defamation,  which  we  are  sure  to  win?  I 
like  this  case.  We  shall  amuse  ourselves." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  bring  any  accusation  nor  any  action 
against  Donna  Adele  Savelli,"  answered  Ghisleri.  "All 
I  wish  to  do  is  to  protect  myself.  Of  course  I  should  be 
curious  to  know  what  became  of  that  written  confession 
of  hers,  if  it  ever  existed.  But  at  present  I  wish  you  to 
have  certified  copies  made  of  all  my  letters  to  her,  and 
to  keep  the  originals  of  those  she  writes  me.  If  she 
makes  such  another  attack  on  me  as  the  last  one,  I  will 
ask  you,  perhaps,  to  take  the  matter  up.  In  the  mean 
time,  I  only  desire  to  keep  on  the  safe  side." 

"In  a  case  like  this,"  said  the  lawyer,  "it  is  far  safer 
to  attack  than  to  wait  for  the  enemy.  Be  careful  in  what 
you  write,  at  all  events.  It  would  be  wiser  to  show  me  the 
letters  before  you  send  them.  One  never  can  tell  at  what 
point  the  error  of  omission  or  commission  will  be  made, 
upon  which  everything  will  depend.  Asa  bit  of  general 
advice,  I  should  warn  you  always  to  date  every  sheet  on 
which  you  write  anything,  always  to  mention  the  name 
of  the  dealer  when  you  speak  of  him,  and  invariably  to 


846  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

give  in  full  the  correct  title  by  which  the  manuscript  is 
known.  If  you  do  that,  and  take  good  care  that  the  dealer 
knows  you  perfectly  each  time  you  see  him,  and  remem 
bers  your  visits,  it  will  not  be  easy  to  manage.  But 
Donna  Adele  Savelli  is  evidently  a  clever  person,  whether 
her  reasons  for  hating  you  are  good  or  bad.  That  little 
trick  of  sending  her  own  letters  to  the  other  lady  was 
masterly  —  absolutely  diabolical.  The  reason  she  failed 
was  that  she  struck  too  high.  She  over-reached  herself. 
She  accused  you  of  too  much.  That  shows  that  although 
her  methods  are  clever  her  judgment  is  insufficient.  The 
same  is  true  of  this  last  attempt.  By  the  bye,  have  you 
ever  mentioned  me  to  her,  -so  far  as  you  can  recollect?  " 

"No,  I  believe  not." 

"Then  avoid  doing  so,  if  you  please.  It  is  always 
better  to  keep  the  opposite  party  in  ignorance  of  one's 
lawyer's  name  until  the  last  minute." 

"Very  well." 

As  soon  as  Ghisleri  was  gone  Ubaldini  wrote  a  draft 
of  a  letter  to  Adele,  as  follows : 

"EXCELLENCY  :  — At  the  decease  of  a  client  of  humble  station 
a  number  of  papers  have  come  under  my  notice  and  are  now  in  my 
hands.  One  of  them,  of  some  length,  has  evidently  gone  astray, 
for  it  is  written  by  your  Excellency  and  apparently  addressed  to  a 
member  of  the  clergy,  besides  containing,  as  one  glance  told  me, 
matter  of  a  private  nature.  It  is  my  wish  to  restore  it  imme 
diately,  and  I  therefore  write  to  inquire  whether  I  may  entrust  it 
to  the  post-office,  or  whether  I  shall  hand  it  sealed  to  your  Ex 
cellency's  legal  representative.  I  need  not  add  the  assurance  that 
so  far  as  I  am  concerned  the  matter  is  a  strict  secret,  nor  that  I  de 
sire  to  restore  the  document  as  a  duty  of  honour,  and  could  not 
consider  for  a  moment  the  question  of  any  remuneration. 

"  Deign,  Excellency,  to  receive  graciously  the  expression  of  pro- 
foundest  respect  with  which  I  write  myself, 

"  Your  Excellency's  most  humble,  obedient  servant, 

UBALDINI,  Advocate.11 


PIETRO  GHISLEBJ.  347 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

As  Ghisleri  had  anticipated,  Adele  kept  up  a  lively 
correspondence  with  him  for  some  time.  All  her  letters 
were  duly  filed  by  Ubaldini,  who  took  certified  copies  of 
Pietro's  replies,  but  did  not  mention  what  he  himself  had 
done  in  the  matter.  Adele  bargained  sharply  until  Ghis 
leri  wrote  to  her  as  plainly  as  he  well  could  that  the 
manuscript  was  not  to  be  had  for  less  than  the  sum  he 
had  repeatedly  named,  and  that  he  could  do  nothing  more 
for  her.  Thereupon  she  answered  that  she  would  con 
sider  the  matter,  and  did  not  write  again.  Pietro,  after 
waiting  several  days,  left  Rome  again,  and  returned  to 
Torre  de'  Ghisleri,  glad  to  be  relieved  at  last  from  the 
irksome  and  dangerous  task  of  writing  concise  and 
lawyer-like  communications  about  a  subject  which  did 
not  interest  him  at  all. 

Meanwhile  Adele  had  been  through  a  series  of  emotions 
of  which  Pietro  knew  nothing,  and  which  very  nearly 
drove  her  to  increasing  her  daily  doses  of  morphia  again. 
On  receiving  Ubaldini's  very  respectful  and  straightfor 
ward  letter,  she  had  felt  that  she  was  saved  at  last,  though 
it  definitely  destroyed  the  illusion  by  which  she  had  so 
long  persuaded  herself  that  the  confession  was  still  in  the 
oubliette  at  Gerano.  Without  much  hesitation  she  wrote 
to  Ubaldini,  and  laid  a  bank-note  for  five  hundred  francs 
in  the  folded  sheet.  She  begged  him  to  send  a  special 
messenger  with  the  sealed  packet  to  Castel  Savello,  and 
requested  him,  in  spite  of  his  protest,  to  accept  the 
enclosed  sum  to  cover  expenses. 

During  forty-eight  hours  she  enjoyed  to  the  full  the 
anticipation  of  at  last  getting  back  the  letter  which  had 
cost  her  such  terrible  anxiety  at  various  times  during  the 
past  two  years  and  a  half.  Then  came  Ubaldini's  answer, 
though  when  she  opened  it  she  had  no  idea  that  it  was 
from  him.  He  had  made  his  clerk  both  write  and  sign 


348  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

the  fair  copy  of  the  first  letter,  which  had  been  written 
on  paper  not  stamped  with  an  address.  He  now  wrote 
with  his  own  hand  upon  the  paper  he  kept  for  business 
correspondence  upon  which,  of  course,  the  address  was 
printed.  There  was  consequently  not  the  slightest  resem 
blance  between  the  two  letters.  But  Adele  was  not  pre 
pared  for  the  contents.  The  first  thing  she  noticed  was 
her  bank-note,  carefully  pinned  inside  the  sheet.  Even 
the  form  of  addressing  her  was  not  the  same,  and  the  one 
now  employed  was  the  correct  one,  the  Savelli  being  one 
of  the  families  in  which  the  title  of  Prince  and  Princess 
belongs  indiscriminately  to  all  the  children,  and  conse 
quently  to  the  wives  of  all  the  sons.  The  letter  was  as 
follows : 

"  SIGNORA  PRIKCIPESSA  : —  I  have  the  honour  to  acknowledge 
the  receipt  of  a  communication  from  your  Excellency,  in  which 
you  request  me  to  send  a  certain  sealed  packet  to  Castel  Savello 
by  a  special  messenger,  and  enclosing  a  bank  note  for  five  hun 
dred  francs  (Banca  Romana  S.  7|f^)  which  I  return  herewith.  I 
take  the  occasion  to  say  that  I  know  nothing  whatever  of  the 
sealed  packet  referred  to,  and  I  beg  to  suggest  that  your  Excellency 
may  have  accidentally  addressed  the  letter  to  me  instead  of  to  some 
other  person,  perhaps  in  using  a  directory.  If,  however,  it  was 
written  in  answer  to  one  supposed  to  have  been  indited  to  you  by 
me,  the  letter  must  have  been  composed  and  sent  by  some  design 
ing  person  in  the  hope  of  intercepting  the  reply  and  gaining  pos 
session  of  the  money,  which  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  send  back  to 
its  original  owner.  Believe  me,  Signora  Principessa, 

"  Your  Excellency's  most  obedient, 

"RINALDO  UBALDINI." 

The  shock  was  almost  more  than  Adele  could  bear,  and 
the  room  reeled  with  her  as  she  comprehended  what  had 
happened,  so  far  as  she  was  able  to  understand  it  all. 
The  truth  did  not  strike  her,  however.  What  she  believed 
was  what  the  lawyer  suggested,  that  some  person  had 
played  a  trick  on  her,  and  had  made  use  of  Ubaldini's 
name  and  address  in  the  hope  of  getting  the  money  he  or 
she  naturally  expected  that  she  would  send  as  compensa- 


PIETRO    GHISLERI.  349 

tion  for  such  an  important  service.  The  hardest  to 
endure  was  the  disappointment  of  finding  that  she  was 
not  to  have  the  confession  after  all.  The  point  proved 
was  that,  whether  it  were  still  in  the  oubliette  or  had  been 
found  and  carried  off,  there  was  in  either  case  at  least  one 
person  at  large  who  knew  it  existed,  and  who  knew  that 
the  contents  would  be  greatly  to  her  disadvantage  if 
known.  And  if  one  person  knew  it,  she  argued,  all  Rome 
might  be  acquainted  with  the  story,  and  probably  was. 
But  the  comforting  conviction  that  the  letter  was  still 
safe  at  Gerano  did  not  return.  There  was  a  tone  about 
the  first  communication  disclaimed  by  Ubaldini,  which 
forced  upon  her  the  belief  that  the  writer  knew  every 
thing,  and  could  ruin  her  at  a  moment's  notice. 

What  Ubaldini  gained  was  the  certainty  that  the  story 
which  Ghisleri  described  as  current  gossip  was  a  fact, 
and  a  very  serious  one.  He  had  played  detective  instead 
of  lawyer,  and  he  had  been  very  successful.  He  knew 
also,  that,  as  he  had  acted  altogether  in  the  interests  of 
his  client,  Ghisleri,  and  had  returned  Adele's  money,  no 
objection  could,  strictly  speaking,  be  made  to  the  strata 
gem,  however  it  might  be  looked  upon  by  gentlemen  and 
men  of  the  world,  like  Ghisleri  himself.  But  Ubaldini 
was  a  lawyer,  and  it  was  not  his  business  to  consider 
what  the  fine  world  would  think  of  his  doings.  He  filed 
Adele's  letter  with  the  copies  of  his  own. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  days,  Adele,  who  was  all  the 
time  carrying  on  her  correspondence  with  Pietro,  gathered 
some  hope  from  the  latter's  answers.  She  had  a  suspi 
cion  that  he  might  keep  all  the  notes  he  received  from 
her,  and  after  the  first  she  was  as  careful  never  to  men 
tion  the  manuscript  except  as  "  the  confession, "  as  he, 
on  his  part,  was  always  to  write  out  its  title  in  full.  It 
struck  her,  however,  that  a  man  playing  such  a  part  as 
she  wished  to  have  it  thought  that  he  was  playing, 
would  naturally  use  some  such  means  for  making  his 
letters  seem  commonplace  if  they  should  fall  into  the 
wrong  hands,  and  it  would  be  easy  to  persuade  her 


350  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

friends  that  the  autobiographic  writings  of  Isabella  Mon- 
tevarchi  meant  Adele  Savelli's  confession,  by  common 
consent,  though  she  herself  had  not  taken  the  trouble  to 
use  such  a  long  title  more  than  once.  The  thought  elated 
her,  and  comforted  her  in  a  measure  for  the  disappoint 
ment  she  had  suffered,  and  which  had  shaken  her  nerves 
severely. 

She  now  spent  much  time  in  going  over  the  corre 
spondence,  weighing  each  word  in  the  attempt  to  establish 
its  exact  value  if  regarded  from  the  point  of  view  of  a 
systematic  attempt  to  extort  money.  With  a  relative 
coolness  which  would  not  have  disgraced  a  strong  man, 
and  which  showed  how  far  she  had  recovered  control  of 
herself  by  diminishing  the  doses  of  morphia,  she  set  to 
work  to  put  her  case  together  on  the  supposition  that 
she  meant  to  lay  it  before  her  husband,  for  instance,  or 
any  other  intelligent  person,  with  a  request  for  advice. 
And  the  case,  as  she  put  it,  was  better  than  might  have 
been  expected,  though  it  depended  ultimately,  for  its 
solidity,  on  the  supposition  that  the  confession  could 
never  be  found. 

In  the  first  place,  she  intended  to  admit  that  she  had 
been  jealous  of  Laura  for  years,  and  to  own  frankly  that 
she  had  often  said  cruel  and  spiteful  things  of  her,  and  of 
Arden,  just  as  everybody  she  knew  said  spiteful  things 
of  somebody.  She  would  even  admit  that  she  had  first 
set  afloat  the  rumour  that  Lord  Herbert  was  intemperate, 
and  that  Laura  had  the  evil  eye.  She  could  then  point 
out  that  her  conduct  had  suddenly  changed  in  deference 
to  her  father's  wishes,  that  there  had  been  an  open  recon 
ciliation,  not  very  heartfelt  on  her  part  at  first,  but 
made  sincere  by  the  remorse  she  felt  after  Arden's  death. 
For  she  meant  to  go  even  so  far  as  to  confess  that  Arden 
might  have  caught  the  scarlet  fever  in  her  house,  seeing 
that  her  maid  was  only  just  recovering  from  it  at  the 
time.  The  woman's  illness  had  been  kept  strictly  secret, 
and  she  had  been,  from  the  first,  taken  to  a  distant  part 
of  the  palace,  so  that  Adele  had  not  believed  there  could 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  351 

be  any  danger.  Even  her  husband  had  not  known  what 
the  maid's  illness  was,  and  poor  Lucia  had  pleaded  so 
hard  not  to  be  sent  to  the  hospital  that  Adele  had  yielded. 
But  to  prove,  she  would  say,  how  little  fear  of  contagion 
she  had,  her  own  children  had  not  been  sent  into  the 
country.  The  Palazzo  Savelli  was  big  enough  to  have 
had  a  whole  infirmary  in  one  part  of  it,  completely  iso 
lated  from  all  the  rest.  Nevertheless,  she  had  always 
felt  that  there  was  a  possibility  of  Arden's  last  illness 
having  been  taken  at  that  dinner-party,  and  her  secret 
remorse  had  caused  her  the  greatest  suffering.  Between 
that  and  a  nervous  disorder  from  which  she  had  little 
hope  of  ever  recovering,  she  had  fallen  very  ill,  and  had 
gone  to  Gerano.  While  there,  her  conscience  had  so 
pricked  her  in  the  matter  of  her  past  unkindness  to  her 
step-sister  and  to  Arden,  that  although  she  had  been  to 
confession  at  Easter,  she  wrote  a  long  letter  to  her  con 
fessor  in  Rome,  going  again  over  the  full  details  of  the 
past  winter.  From  that  point  she  could  tell  the  truth, 
without  even  sparing  Lucia,  until  she  came  to  the  dis 
covery  that  it  was  Ghisleri  himself  who  had  picked  up 
the  letter,  or  confession,  under  the  shaft  of  the  oubliette. 
And  here  she  would  lay  great  stress  on  Ghisleri's  attach 
ment  to  Laura,  and  consequent  dislike  of  herself.  The 
well-known  fact  that  Pietro  had  fought  a  desperate  duel 
merely  because  Campodonico  said  that  Lady  Herbert  Ar- 
den  might  have  the  evil  eye,  sufficiently  showed  to  what 
lengths  he  would  go  in  her  defence.  Nothing  more  would 
really  be  needed.  But  there  was  plenty  more.  All  Rome 
knew  that  he  had  broken  with  Maddalena  dell'  Armi  for 
Laura's  sake,  and  that  he  had  exhibited  the  most  untiring 
devotion  ever  afterwards.  Never,  since  the  death  of  the 
Princess  Corleone,  Adele  would  boldly  assert,  had  he 
been  faithful  to  any  one  woman  for  such  a  length  of  time. 
That  was  a  strong  point.  The  Princess  of  Gerano  her 
self  could  testify  to  her  own  anxiety  about  Laura  since 
Ghisleri  had  been  so  much  with  her.  Laura  herself  had 
behaved  in  the  most  admirable  manner  ever  since  the 


352  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

reconciliation,  but  Ghisleri,  in  constituting  himself  her 
champion,  had  become,  so  to  say,  more  royalist  than  the 
king,  and  more  catholic  than  the  pope.  His  dislike,  if 
not  his  positive  hatred,  for  Adele  was  apparent  at  every 
step  in  the  story.  He  did  not,  it  is  true,  speak  of  it  to 
any  one,  but  his  reticence  was  a  well-known  peculiarity 
of  his  character.  It  was  when  he  was  alone  in  conver 
sation  with  Adele  that  he  showed  what  he  felt.  But 
his  manner  was  always  courteous  and  rather  formal.  It 
was  by  sarcastic  hints  that  he  conveyed  his  meaning. 
Nevertheless,  Adele  had  maintained  the  outward  forms  of 
friendly  acquaintance,  and  once,  some  six  months  after 
Arden's  death,  when  matters  had  not  been  so  bad  as  they 
now  were,  she  had  asked  him  to  stay  a  few  days  at  Ge- 
rano.  Lucia  could  testify  that  he  was  there  at  the  time 
when  the  confession  disappeared,  and  Lucia,  who  had 
attempted  to  extort  money  for  it,  and  would  have  suc 
ceeded  if  the  document  had  been  forthcoming,  had  natu 
rally  been  as  interested  as  any  one  to  find  it.  Not  until 
some  time  later  had  Adele  suspected  that  it  had  been 
picked  up  by  Ghisleri.  The  thing,  of  course,  had  not  any 
very  great  value,  but  what  woman,  Adele  would  ask,  could 
bear  to  think  that  the  most  private  outpourings  of  her 
soul  to  her  spiritual  director  were  in  the  hands  of  a  man 
who  hated  her,  and  who  could,  if  he  pleased,  circulate 
them  and  make  them  the  talk  of  the  town  ?  When  Ghis 
leri,  in  the  following  winter,  had  begun  to  torment  her 
systematically  by  quoting  little  phrases  and  expressions 
which  she  remembered  to  have  written  in  the  letter,  she 
had  at  last  boldly  taxed  him  with  having  it  in  his  posses 
sion,  and  he,  with  the  unparalleled  cynicism  for  which 
he  was  famous,  had  laughed  at  her  and  owned  the  truth. 
Every  one  would  allow  that  this  was  very  like  him. 
She  had  threatened  to  complain  to  her  husband,  and  he 
had  expressed  the  utmost  indifference.  He  was  a  known 
duelist  and  a  dangerous  adversary,  and  for  her  husband's 
sake  she  had  held  her  tongue,  while  Ghisleri  continued 
to  make  her  life  miserable  with  his  witticisms.  Then 


PIETKO    GHISLERI.  353 

she  had  once  asked  him  what  he  would  consider  an  equiv 
alent  for  the  letter.  He  had  laughed  again,  and  had 
said  that  he  would  take  a  large  sum  of  money  in  exchange 
for  it,  which,  he  added,  he  would  devote  to  building  a 
small  hospital  in  the  village  of  Torre  de'  Ghisleri,  saying 
that  it  would  be  for  the  good  of  her  soul  to  found  a 
charity  of  that  kind.  She  would  not  undertake  to  say 
whether  he  would  have  employed  the  money  for  that 
purpose  or  not,  if  she  had  given  it  to  him.  Possibly  he 
would.  But  she  had  not  been  able  to  dispose  of  any 
such  sum  as  he  had  then  named.  Under  her  marriage 
contract  she  controlled  only  her  pin-money,  and  her 
father  allowed  her  nothing  out  of  the  great  fortune  which 
would  some  day  be  hers.  She  and  Ghisleri  had  corre 
sponded  about  the  matter  in  town,  by  notes  sent  back 
wards  and  forwards.  She,  on  her  part,  had  at  that  time 
thought  she  was  doing  wisely  in  burning  his,  but  he  had 
been  less  careful.  He  had,  in  fact,  been  so  grossly  neg 
ligent  as  to  leave  five  of  them  at  one  time  in  the  pocket 
of  one  of  his  coats.  It  was  through  his  tailor  to  whom 
the  coat  had  been  sent  for  some  alteration  or  repair 
that  two  of  these  notes  had  come  back  to  Adele.  A 
woman,  apparently  a  seamstress,  had  come  to  her  with 
them  one  day,  and  had  offered  them  to  her  for  sale, 
together  with  a  card  of  Lady  Herbert  Arden's  enclosed 
in  an  envelope  addressed  to  "  Maria  B."  at  the  general 
post-office.  On  the  card  were  written  the  words  :  "  For 
Maria  B.,  with  best  thanks."  The  woman  confessed  that 
she  was  in  great  distress,  that  she  had  found  the  letters 
in  a  coat  upon  which  she  was  working,  had  easily  ascer 
tained  who  Ghisleri  was,  and  what  his  relations  towards 
Lady  Herbert  were,  and  had  appealed  to  the  latter  for 
help,  offering  the  letters  in  exchange  for  any  charity,  and 
actually  sending  three  of  them  when  she  had  only  received 
five  francs.  Lady  Herbert  had  then  sent  her  fifty  francs 
more  with  the  card  in  question,  but  the  poor  woman 
thought  that  very  little.  She  bitterly  repented  not 
having  brought  them  all  at  once  to  Donna  Adele.  Of 

2A 


B54  PIETKO   GHISLERI. 

course  they  belonged  to  her,  and  Donna  Adele  had  a 
right  to  them  all,  without  payment.      But  the  woman 
was  very  poor.      Adele  had  unhesitatingly  given  her  a 
hundred  francs  and  had  kept  the  two  notes  and  the  card, 
which  proved  at  least  that  even  at  that  time  she  had  been 
corresponding  with  Ghisleri  and  protesting  her  inability 
to  pay  the  sum  he  demanded,  and  that  Laura  Arden  was 
aware  of  the  correspondence,  and  had  been  willing  for 
Ghisleri's  sake  to  pay  money  to  obtain  it.     For  a  long 
time  after  this  Adele  had  made  no  further  attempt,  but 
had  avoided  finding  herself  alone  in  conversation  with 
Pietro,  as  many  people  had  indeed  noticed,  because  she 
could  not  bear  to  be  perpetually  annoyed  by  his  reference 
to  his  power  over  her.     Yet,  out  of  fear  lest  some  harm 
should  befall  her  husband,  she  had  still  held  her  peace. 
Early  in  the  preceding  summer,  shortly  before  leaving 
for  her  annual  visit  to  Gerano,  Ghisleri  had  managed  to 
be  alone  with  her,  and  had  not  lost  the  opportunity  of 
inflicting  another  wound,  which  had  revived  all  her  old 
desire  to  obtain  possession  of  the  lost  letter.     He  had, 
indeed,  almost  admitted  that  unless  she  would  reconsider 
the  matter  he  would  send  it  to  one  of  her  friends  to  read. 
The  Montevarchi  library  was  then  about  to  be  sold,  and 
many  persons  were  talking  of  the  famous  confession  of 
Isabella   Montevarchi.      By   way   of  safety,    Adele,    in 
agreeing  to  think  the  whole  thing  over  once  more,  had 
told  him  that  when  writing  she  should  speak  of  her  own 
letter  as   though  it  were   this  well-known   manuscript. 
She  had  already  some  experience  of  his  carelessness  in 
regard  to  notes.     Against  his  own  statement,  and  against 
her  own  secret  positive  conviction,  yet  to  give  him  one 
chance,  as  it  were,  she  had  made  one  desperate  effort  to 
have  the  oubliette  opened  and  searched.      Her  father 
would  remember  how  angry  she  had  been,  and,  indeed, 
she  had  lost  her  temper,  being  always  ill  and  nervous. 
He  had  positively  refused.      Then,  in  despair,  she  had 
reopened   negotiations   with    Ghisleri,    whose    demands, 
though  not  so  high  as  formerly,  were  still  quite  beyond 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  355 

her  means.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  dealer  had  asked 
an  exorbitant  price  for  the  manuscript,  being  well  aware 
of  its  historical  importance,  which  was  little  less  than 
that  attaching  to  the  famous  manuscript  account  of  the 
Cenci  trial.  Adele  was  in  despair.  She  had  no  means 
of  raising  such  a  sum  as  Ghisleri  required,  except  by 
selling  her  jewels,  which  she  could  not  possibly  do  with 
out  exciting  her  husband's  suspicions.  She  was  power 
less.  Had  any  woman  ever  been  placed  in  such  a  situ 
ation  ?  Ghisleri's  last  letter  distinctly  stated  that  he 
could  do  nothing  more  for  her  if  she  refused  to  buy  the 
confession  of  Isabella  Montevarchi  at  the  price  he  had 
last  named.  Those  were  his  very  words.  They  meant 
that  unless  she  paid,  he  would  make  use  of  the  letter  he 
had.  He  even  added,  that  in  that  case  the  manuscript 
would  probably  before  long  be  disposed  of  elsewhere,  as 
though  to  make  his  meaning  clearer. 

Her  position  was  very  strong,  Adele  thought,  as  she 
reached  the  end  of  her  statement  as  she  first  drew  it  up 
in  her  own  mind.  A  clever  lawyer  could  doubtless 
make  it  even  stronger,  for  he  would  know  how  to  take 
advantage  of  every  point,  and  how  to  call  attention  to 
the  strongest  and  pass  smoothly  over  the  weaker  links  in 
the  chain.  The  real  danger,  and  the  only  real  danger, 
lay  in  the  possibility  that  the  confession  itself  might  be 
found  and  might  be  produced,  with  all  which  she  said  it 
contained,  and  with  the  one  central  black  statement  of 
which  she  made  no  mention  in  working  up  the  case. 
But  who  could  produce  it  ?  If  any  one  had  it,  that  man 
was  Ghisleri,  who  had  more  than  once  gone  very  near 
the  truth  in  the  hints  he  had  thrown  out.  Say  that  he 
had  it  —  suppose  the  hypothesis  a  fact.  Its  being  in  his 
possession  would  be  the  most  ruining  evidence  of  all. 
He  would  not  dare  to  show  it,  for  though  it  might  ruin 
her,  it  would  be  far  worse  ruin  to  him,  for  it  would  of 
itself  suffice  to  prove  the  truth  of  every  word  of  her 
story,  and  he  would  not  only  incur  the  full  penalty  of 
the  law  for  a  most  abominable  attempt  at  levying  black- 


356  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

mail,  but  his  very  memory  would  be  blasted  for  ever  as 
that  of  the  most  dastardly  and  cowardly  villain  ever 
sent  to  penal  servitude.  As  for  herself,  she  felt  that 
she  had  not  long  to  live,  and  if  worse  came  to  worst,  a 
little  over-dose  of  morphia  would  end  it  all.  She  would 
have  had  her  triumph,  and  she  would  have  seen  Laura's 
face  by  that  time. 

It  did  not  occur  to  her  to  ask  herself  any  question 
about  the  origin  of  a  hatred  so  implacable  as  to  make  the 
sacrifice  of  life  itself  seem  easy  in  the  accomplishment  of 
its  end.  She  was  not  able  to  trace  the  history  of  her 
jealousy  backwards  by  a  firm  concentration  of  memory, 
as  she  was  able  by  the  force  of  vivid  imagination  to  con 
struct  the  vengeance  she  anticipated  in  the  future.  That 
the  most  dire  revenge  should  be  contemplated,  pursued, 
and  ultimately  executed  for  the  sake  of  a  wrong  wholly 
imaginary  in  the  first  instance  is  not  altogether  novel  in 
the  history  of  humanity.  There  are  minds  which  under 
certain  conditions  cannot  judge  of  the  past  as  they  can  of 
events  present  and  to  come.  Adele's  hatred  of  Laura 
Arden  amounted  almost  to  a  fixed  idea.  It  had  begun  in 
very  small  things.  Its  origin  lay,  perhaps,  in  the  simple 
fact  that  Laura  was  beautiful  whereas  Adele  had  been 
barely  pretty  at  her  best,  and  its  first  great  development 
had  been  the  consequence  of  Francesco  Savelli's  undis 
guised  preference  for  the  step-sister  of  his  future  wife. 
All  the  young  girl's  jealousy  and  vain  nature  had  been 
roused  and  wounded  by  the  slight,  and  as  years  had  gone 
by  and  Savelli  showed  no  signs  of  forgetting  his  early 
attachment  to  Laura,  the  wound  had  grown  more  sore  and 
more  angry  until  it  had  poisoned  Adele's  character  and 
heart  to  the  very  core.  The  worst  deed  she  ever  did  had 
not  perhaps  been  the  worst  in  intention.  She  had  not 
been  at  all  sure  that  Arden  would  take  the  fever,  and  she 
had  assuredly  not  meant  nor  ever  expected  that  he  should 
die.  Chance  had  put  the  information  into  her  hands  at  a 
moment  when,  through  Laura,  as  it  seemed  to  her,  she 
was  suffering  the  most  cruel  humiliation  she  had  ever 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  357 

known.  On  that  memorable  evening  when  her  father  had 
forced  her  to  submit  to  his  will,  and  when  she  was  look 
ing  forward  with  bitter  loathing  to  what  was  very  like  a 
public  reconciliation,  she  had  been  left  alone.  In  attempt 
ing  to  control  herself  and  to  regain  some  outward  calm, 
she  had  taken  up  a  review  and  had  forced  herself  to  read 
the  first  article  upon  which  she  opened,  and  which  hap 
pened  to  be  a  very  dull  one  on  the  bacilli  of  various 
diseases.  But  one  passage  had  struck  her  forcibly  —  the 
plain  account  of  a  case  which  had  recently  been  observed, 
in  which  few  medical  terms  occurred,  and  which  a  child 
could  have  understood.  The  extreme  simplicity  of  the 
facts  had  startled  her,  and  she  had  suddenly  resolved  that 
Laura  and  Arden  should  have  cause  to  remember  the  rec 
onciliation  which  would  cost  her  vanity  so  dear.  But  she 
had  no  intention  of  doing  murder.  In  her  heart  she  had 
hardly  believed  that  any  result  would  follow,  and  remorse 
had  taken  hold  of  her  almost  at  once,  simultaneously  with 
the  horrible  fear  of  discovery  which  has  more  than  once 
driven  men  and  women  mad.  But  remorse  is  by  no  means 
repentance.  With  it  comes  often  what  has  been  called 
the  impossibility  of  pardoning  the  person  one  has  injured, 
and  the  insane  desire  to  wreak  vengeance  upon  that  per 
son  for  the  acute  sufferings  endured  in  one's  own  con 
science.  Given  the  existence  of  this  desire  in  a  very 
violent  degree,  and  admitting  the  inevitable  disturbance 
of  the  faculties  ensuing  upon  the  long  and  vicious  abuse 
of  such  a  poison  as  morphia,  Adele's  ultimate  state 
becomes  comprehensible.  She  was,  indeed,  as  Ghisleri 
had  said  to  Laura,  hardly  sane,  and  her  incipient  mad 
ness  having  originally  resulted  from  jealousy,  the  latter 
naturally  remained  the -ruling  influence  in  her  unsettled 
brain,  and  attained  proportions  hardly  credible  to  those 
who  have  not  followed  the  steps  by  which  the  human 
intelligence  passes  from  sanit}^  to  madness. 

And  now  that  she  had  worked  up  her  case  against 
Ghisleri,  as  a  lawyer  would  express  it,  and  had  convinced 
herself  that  she  could  tell  a  long  and  connected  story  in 


358  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

which  almost  every  detail  should  give  colour  to  her  prin 
cipal  assertion,  she  hesitated  as  to  the  course  she  should 
pursue.  9  It  was  not  in  her  power  to  send  for  a  lawyer 
and  to  bring  an  action  at  law  against  Pietro,  without  her 
husband's  consent,  and  she  knew  how  hard  that  would  be 
to  obtain.  Francesco  Savelli  was  by  no  means  a  cowardly 
man,  and  would,  if  necessary,  have  exposed  his  life  in  a 
duel  with  Ghisleri,  not  for  his  wife's  sake,  but  for  the 
sake  of  the  family  honour.  But  he  had  the  true  Eoman's 
abhorrence  of  publicity  and  scandal,  and  would  make 
great  sacrifices  to  avoid  anything  of  the  kind.  Her  own 
father  might  be  willing  to  take  the  matter  up,  but  it  was 
extremely  hard  to  deceive  him.  She  knew,  however,  that 
if  he  were  once  persuaded  of  the  justice  of  her  cause,  he 
would  go  to  any  length  in  her  defence  and  would  prove  an 
implacable  enemy  to  the  man  who,  as  he  would  suppose, 
had  injured  her.  The  great  difficulty  lay  in  persuading 
him  at  the  outset.  But  for  the  unfortunate  fact  that  he 
had  already  once  detected  her  in  falsehood,  the  matter 
would  have  been  far  easier.  It  was  true  that  she  meant 
to  admit  all  he  had  then  forced  her  to  own,  and  much 
more  besides,  in  order  to  show  how  high  a  value  Ghisleri 
set  upon  the  confession  which  contained  a  concise  account 
of  her  doings.  But  he  would,  in  any  case,  be  prejudiced 
against  her  from  the  first.  One  thing  was  in  her  favour, 
she  thought.  The  Princess  of  Gerano  did  not  like  Ghis 
leri,  and  would  in  all  likelihood  be  ready  to  believe  evil 
of  him,  and  to  influence  her  husband,  good  and  just 
woman  though  she  was.  There  was  one  other  person  to 
whom  Adele  could  apply  —  Prince  Savelli  himself.  She 
thought  of  him  last  and  wondered  why  she  had  not  re 
membered  him  first.  He  was  a  man  of  singular  energy, 
courage,  and  coolness,  whose  chief  fault  was  a  tendency 
to  overestimate  beyond  all  limits  the  importance  of  his 
family  and  the  glory  of  his  ancient  name.  She  knew 
that  he  was  abnormally  sensitive  on  these  points  and  that 
if  she  could  rouse  his  ever  ready  pride,  he  would  hesitate 
at  nothing  in  order  to  bring  retribution  upon  any  one  rash 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  359 

enough  to  insult  or  injure  any  member  of  his  family. 
And  he  lived  a  life  of  his  own  and  cared  little  for  the 
world.  His  passion,  strangely  enough,  was  of  a  scientific 
kind.  He  was  an  astronomer,  had  built  himself  an  obser 
vatory  on  the  top  of  the  massive  old  palace,  and  spent  the 
greater  part  of  his  time  there.  Such  existences,  in  the 
very  heart  of  society,  are  not  unknown  in  Rome.  Prince 
Savelli  had  remained  what  he  was  by  nature,  a  true  stu 
dent,  and  was  perfectly  happy  in  his  own  way,  caring 
very  little  for  the  world  and  hardly  ever  showing  him 
self  in  it.  The  Princess  was  a  placid  person,  extremely 
devout,  but  also  extremely  selfish.  It  was  from  her  that 
Francesco  inherited  his  disposition  and  his  yellow  hair. 

It  struck  Adele  that  if  she  could  win  her  father-in- 
law's  sympathy  and  rouse  him  to  action  in  her  behalf,  it 
would  be  far  easier  to  persuade  her  own  father  that  she 
was  in  the  right.  G-erano  had  a  boundless  respect  for  the 
elder  Savelli's  opinion,  though  if  he  had  known  him 
better,  he  would  have  discovered  that  his  judgment  was 
far  too  easily  influenced  where  his  exaggerated  family 
pride  was  concerned. 

A  long  time  passed  before  Adele  finally  made  up  her 
mind  to  the  great  attempt.  Ghisleri  had  already  re 
turned  to  Rome  and  Laura  Arden  was  expected  in  two  or 
three  weeks,  according  to  news  received  by  her  mother. 

An  incident,  trivial  in  itself,  at  last  decided  her  to  act 
at  once.  She  and  Francesco  were  dining  with  the  Prince 
and  Princess  of  Gerano  as  they  did  regularly  once  a  week. 
As  a  rule  nobody  was  invited  to  these  family  meetings, 
but  on  that  particular  evening  Gianforte  Campodonico 
and  Donna  Christina  had  been  asked.  It  was  convenient 
to  have  them  when  Laura  was  not  there,  and  they  were 
much  liked  in  Casa  Gerano  where,  as  has  been  said, 
Ghisleri  was  not  a  favourite.  There  was,  moreover,  a 
distant  relationship  between  the  families  of  Braccio  and 
Campodonico  of  which,  as  they  liked  one  another,  both 
were  fond  of  speaking. 

Adele  looked  very  ill.     By  this  time  her  complexion 


PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

was  of  a  pale  yellow,  and  she  was  thin  to  absolute 
emaciation.  In  spite  of  her  determined  efforts  to  break 
the  habit  that  was  killing  her,  or  perhaps  as  a  first  con 
sequence  of  them,  she  was  liable  to  moments  of  nervous 
ness  in  which  she  could  hardly  control  herself  and  in 
which  she  did  not  seem  to  remember  what  had  happened 
a  few  minutes  earlier.  Her  sufferings  at  such  times  were 
painful  to  see.  She  could  hardly  keep  her  hands  from 
moving  about  in  a  helpless  fashion,  and  her  face  was 
often  slightly  contorted.  Very  rarely,  on  fine  days  when 
she  had  been  driving,  a  little  colour  came  into  her  ghastly 
cheeks.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  only  her  strong  will 
supported  her  continually,  and  that  women  more  weakly 
organized  would  long  ago  have  succumbed  to  the  effects 
of  the  poison. 

When  she  felt  that  she  was  liable  to  a  crisis  of  the 
nerves  she  was  careful  to  stay  at  home,  but  occasionally 
she  was  attacked  unawares,  more  or  less  violently,  when 
she  had  believed  herself  well  enough  to  go  out.  When 
this  happened  she  sat  in  silence  while  the  suffering  lasted, 
and  did  her  best  to  keep  her  unruly  hands  clasped 
together.  By  a  strong  effort  she  sometimes  succeeded  in 
concealing  from  others  what  she  felt,  but  the  exertion  of 
her  will  made  her  irritable  to  the  last  degree,  if  she  was 
called  upon  to  speak  or  forced  to  try  and  join  in  the 
conversation. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

THE  dinner  passed  off  quietly  and  pleasantly  enough 
until  towards  the  end,  when  the  conversation  turned  upon 
the  coming  season,  and  all  began  to  speculate  as  to 
whether  it  would  be  gay  or  dull,  as  people  always  do 
when  they  meet  after  the  long  separation  in  the  summer. 

"  There  will  be  all  the  usual  pleasant  things,"  observed 
Francesco  Savelli,  who  loved  society  as  much  as  his  wife 
did.  "  Let  me  see.  There  will  be  the  evenings  in  Casa 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  361 

Frangipani,  and  they  will  give  their  two  balls  as  usual  at 
the  end.  The  Marchesa  di  San  Giacinto  will  do  as  she 
did  last  year  —  a  dance  and  a  ball  alternately  after  the 
fifteenth  of  January.  Of  course  Casa  Montevarchi  does 
not  exist  any  more  since  the  crash,  but  that  is  the  only 
one.  Then  there  are  your  evenings,"  he  continued,  turn 
ing  to  the  mistress  of  the  house,  "  and  there  are  ours, 
of  course,  and  I  suppose  Gouache  and  Donna  Faustina 
will  give  something  at  the  studio.  Have  you  seen  her 
this  year,  Adele  ?  " 

He  looked  across  the  table  at  his  wife,  and  saw  that 
she  was  beginning  to  suffer  from  an  unexpected  attack. 
He  knew  the  symptoms  well,  and  was  aware  that  there 
was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  leave  her  alone  and  take 
no  notice  of  her.  She  merely  nodded  in  answer  to  his 
question,  and  he  went  on  speaking. 

"  Gouache  always  does  something  original,"  he  said. 
"  Do  you  remember  that  supper  on  Shrove  Tuesday  years 
ago  ?  It  was  the  most  successful  thing  of  that  season. 
By  the  bye,  I  saw  Ghisleri  yesterday.  He  has  come  back." 
It  was  rather  tactless  of  him  to  drag  Ghisleri's  name 
into  the  conversation  in  the  presence  of  Campodonico. 
But  the  Princess  of  Gerano  was  even  more  tactless  than 
he. 

"  That  wild  Ghisleri !  "  she  immediately  exclaimed,  as 
she  always  did  when  Pietro  was  mentioned. 

"  Ghisleri  is  no  worse  than  the  rest  of  us,  I  am  sure," 
said  Campodonico,  anxious  to  show  that  he  was  not  in 
the  least  annoyed.  "  He  has  as  many  good  qualities  as 
most  men,  and  perhaps  a  few  more." 

"  It  is  generous  of  you  to  say  that,"  observed  Donna 
Christina,  looking  at  her  husband  with  loving  admi 
ration. 

"  I  do  not  see  that  there  is  much  generosity  about  it, 
my  dear,"  he  answered  warmly.  "It  would  be  very 
spiteful  of  me  not  to  give  him  his  due,  that  is  all.  He 
is  brave  and  honourable,  and  that  is  something  to  say 
of  any  man.  Besides,  look  at  his  friends  —  look  at  the 


362  PIETKO   GHISLERI. 

people  who  like  him,  beginning  with  most  of  you  here. 
That  is  a  very  good  test  of  what  a  man  is." 

He  looked  straight  at  Adele  Savelli  as  he  spoke,  for 
no  special  reason  except  that  he  always  looked  straight 
at  somebody  when  he  was  speaking.  He  was  hot-tem 
pered,  passionate,  generous,  and  truthful,  and  there  was 
a  great  directness  about  everything  he  did  and  said.  But 
at  that  moment  Adele  was  in  great  pain  and  was  doing 
her  best  to  hide  it.  She  fancied  that  Campodonico  had 
noticed  what  was  the  matter. 

"  Why  do  you  look  at  me  in  that  way  ?  "  she  asked  irri 
tably,  but  with  a  nervous  attempt  at  a  laugh. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  answered  Gianforte.  "  I  suppose  I 
expected  you  to  agree  with  me.  I  know  Ghisleri  is  a 
friend  of  yours." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ? "  Adele's  irritation  in 
creased  rapidly.  "  Have  you  any  reason  to  suppose  that 
I  am  particularly  fond  of  him  ?  Have  I  ever  done  any 
thing  to  show  it  ?  " 

"  Why  are  you  so  much  annoyed  ?  "  asked  Savelli,  who 
generally  felt  uncomfortable  when  his  wife  was  in  such 
moods,  and  feared  that  she  would  say  something  to  make 
herself  and  him  ridiculous.  "  You  always  liked  him." 

Adele's  hand  twitched  and  moved  on  the  table  against 
her  will,  and  she  upset  some  salt.  The  little  incident 
sufficed  to  make  her  lose  her  head  completely. 

"If  people  knew  what  Pietro  Ghisleri  really  is,  there 
is  not  a  house  in  Rome  where  he  would  be  received,"  she 
said  angrily. 

The  dead  silence  which  followed  this  categorical  state 
ment  brought  her  to  her  senses  too  late.  Campodonico 
was  the  first  to  speak. 

"I  should  find  it  very  hard  to  believe  that  Ghisleri 
ever  committed  a  dishonourable  action,"  he  said  gravely. 
"  That  is  a  very  serious  statement,  Donna  Adele." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  put  in  the  Prince,  turning  to  his 
daughter.  "  You  should  consider  what  you  are  saying, 
my  dear,  before  going  so  far  as  that.  I  think  you  ought 


PIETRO    GHISLEKI.  363 

to  explain  yourself.  We  may  not  all  like  Ghisleri,  and 
if  we  please  we  are  at  liberty  to  say  so  here,  in  the 
family ;  but  it  is  quite  another  matter  to  say  that  he  is 
not  a  fit  person  to  associate  with  us.  To  say  that,  you 
must  be  quite  sure  that  he  has  done  something  disgraceful, 
of  which  we  are  all  in  ignorance." 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,"  said  Francesco  Savelli. 
"You  only  make  yourself  ridiculous  by  saying  such 
things,"  he  added,  looking  coldly  at  his  wife,  for  he  was 
anxious  that  none  of  the  ridicule  should  reflect  upon 
himself,  especially  in  Campodonico's  presence. 

"  I  am  sure,  when  I  call  Ghisleri  wild,"  said  the 
Princess,  "I  mean  nothing  more  than  that  he  is  fast. 
But  I  am  very  sorry  to  have  brought  about  such  a 
discussion.  Adele,  my  dear,  what  do  you  mean  ?  Are 
you  in  earnest  ?  " 

"  One  does  not  say  such  things  for  nothing,"  answered 
Adele,  angrily. 

"Then  I  wonder  that  you  receive  him,"  said  the 
Prince,  coldly.  "I  hope  you  will  explain  to  me  by  and 
by  what  you  refer  to." 

"  I  will,  some  day,"  said  Adele,  in  a  low  voice.  She 
felt  that  she  had  cast  the  die,  and  she  hardly  saw  how 
she  could  draw  back. 

"  In  that  case,  we  will  say  no  more  about  the  matter  at 
present,"  said  the  master  of  the  house,  in  a  tone  of 
authority.  "  I  had  meant  to  ask  you  for  news  of  your 
brother,"  he  said,  turning  to  Campodonico.  "  I  was  very 
sorry  to  hear  that  he  had  been  ill.  Is  he  better  ?  " 

Gianforte  answered,  and  every  one  made  an  effort  to 
restore  the  outward  calm  which  had  been  so  disturbed 
by  Adele's  speech.  Soon  after  dinner  she  went  home, 
and  instead  of  going  to  his  club  as  usual  Francesco  got 
into  the  carriage  with  her. 

"I  insist  upon  knowing  what  you  meant  by  your 
accusation  against  Ghisleri,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  they 
were  driving  away. 

"I  will  not  tell  you,"  Adele  answered  firmly.  "You 
will  find  it  out  in  time  —  quite  soon  enough,  I  daresay." 


364  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

"I  have  the  right  to  know.  In  the  world  in  which 
we  live  one  makes  oneself  ridiculous  by  saying  such 
things.  Everybody  will  laugh  at  you,  and  then  you  will 
expect  me  to  take  your  part." 

"  I  shall  not  expect  anything  of  the  sort,  for  I  am  not 
so  foolish.  You  never  had  the  slightest  affection  for 
me,  and  you  have  lost  such  little  decent  regard  for  me 
as  you  once  felt,  because  I  am  always  ill  and  it  gives 
you  trouble  to  be  considerate.  You  would  not  raise  a 
finger  to  help  me  or  protect  me  unless  you  were  afraid 
of  the  world's  opinion.  I  have  known  that  a  long  time, 
and  now  that  I  am  in  trouble  I  will  not  come  to  you. 
Why  should  I  ?  You  are  only  waiting  for  me  to  die,  in 
order  to  ask  Laura  to  marry  you.  It  would  annoy  you 
extremely  if  I  lived  long  enough  to  give  her  time  to 
marry  Ghisleri." 

"I  think  remarks  of  that  sort  are  in  the  worst  possible 
taste,"  answered  Savelli,  "  besides  being  without  the 
least  foundation  in  truth.  I  will  beg  you  not  to  make 
any  more  of  them.  As  for  what  you  say  about  Ghisleri, 
if  you  refuse  to  tell  me  what  you  know  I  shall  ask  advice 
of  my  father,  as  that  is  the  only  proper  course  I  could 
follow  under  the  circumstances." 

"  For  once  we  agree  ! "  exclaimed  Adele,  with  a  scorn 
ful  laugh.  "  That  is  precisely  what  I  mean  to  do  myself, 
and  I  will  go  to  him  to-morrow  morning  and  tell  him  the 
whole  story.  But  I  will  not  tell  it  to  you.  He  may,  if 
he  pleases,  and  thinks  it  best." 

"  In  that  case  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,"  answered 
Francesco.  "  You  could  not  select  a  more  fit  person 
than  my  father." 

"  I  am  perfectly  well  aware  of  the  fact."  Adele, 
womanlike,  was  determined  to  have  the  last  word,  no 
matter  how  insignificant. 

Both  were  silent  during  the  remainder  of  the  drive 
home.  At  the  foot  of  the  grand  staircase  Francesco  left 
his  wife  and  got  into  the  carriage  to  be  driven  to  his  club. 
He  reflected  on  the  truth  of  Adele's  observation,  when 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  365 

she  had  said  that  she  might  live  until  Laura  and  Ghis- 
leri  were  married,  and  he  was  by  no  means  pleased  as  he 
realised  how  probable  that  contingency  was.  Since  she 
had  become  a  slave  to  morphia  he  had,  of  course,  been 
at  some  pains  to  ascertain  the  limits  of  the  disease,  and 
the  possible  duration  of  it,  and  he  was  aware  that  some 
persons  lived  for  many  years  in  spite  of  a  constant  and 
increasing  abuse  of  the  poison. 

Adele  once  more  went  over  the  whole  story  in  her 
mind,  preparing  the  details  of  it  and  polishing  all  the 
parts  into  a  harmonious  whole.  In  spite  of  what  she  had 
suffered  that  evening  she  would  not  increase  her  dose, 
though  she  knew  that  she  must  very  probably  spend  a 
sleepless  night.  She  profited  by  the  hours  to  review  the 
story  she  intended  to  tell  her  father-in-law.  At  eleven 
o'clock  on  the  following  morning  she  sent  up  to  inquire 
whether  he  would  see  her,  and  he  at  once  appeared  in 
person  at  the  door  of  her  boudoir,  —  a  tall,  bearded  man 
of  fifty  years  or  more,  slightly  stooping,  not  over-care- 
fully  dressed,  wearing  spectacles,  and  chiefly  remarkable 
for  his  very  beautifully  shaped  hands,  with  which  he 
made  energetic  gestures  at  almost  every  minute,  when 
speaking. 

Adele  began  in  some  trepidation  to  explain  how,  on 
the  previous  evening,  she  had  lost  her  temper  and  had 
been  betrayed  into  making  a  remark  about  Ghisleri  of 
which  her  husband  had  demanded  an  explanation.  She 
felt,  she  said,  that  the  matter  was  so  serious  as  to  justify 
her  in  referring  it  at  once  to  the  head  of  the  family,  who 
might  then  act  as  he  thought  best  with  regard  to  keeping 
it  a  secret  or  informing  his  son  of  what  had  happened. 
She  did  not  fail  to  add  that  one  of  her  motives  in  refus 
ing  to  tell  what  she  knew  to  Francesco,  was  her  anxiety 
for  his  safety,  since  the  affair  concerned  herself  and  he 
would  undoubtedly  take  it  up  as  a  personal  matter  and 
quarrel  with  the  dangerous  man  who  had  so  long  been 
her  enemy.  The  Prince  approved  this  course  with  a 
grave  nod,  and  waited  for  more. 


366  PIETRO    GH1SLERI. 

Then  she  told  her  story  from  beginning  to  end.  She  of 
course  took  advantage  of  the  fact  that  her  father-in-law 
was  but  slightly  acquainted  with  Ghisleri  to  paint  his 
character  with  the  colours  best  suited  to  her  purpose, 
while  asserting  nothing  about  him  which  could  be  in 
direct  contradiction  to  the  testimony  of  others.  She 
spoke  very  lucidly  and  connectedly,  for  she  knew  the 
lesson  well  and  she  was  conscious  that  her  whole  exist 
ence  was  at  stake.  One  fault,  one  little  error  sufficient 
to  cast  suspicion  on  her  veracity,  might  be  enough  to  ruin 
her  in  the  end.  She  concluded  by  a  well-turned  and 
pathetic  allusion  to  her  state  of  health,  which  indeed  was 
pitiable  enough.  She  knew  that  she  was  dying,  but  it 
would  make  death  doubly  painful  to  think  that  such  an 
enemy  as  Grhisleri  was  left  behind  to  blacken  her  memory 
and  perhaps  hereafter  to  poison  the  thought  of  her  in  her 
children's  hearts.  She  also  read  extracts  from  G-hisleri's 
letters  and  showed  Laura's  card,  before  mentioned. 

As  she  proceeded  she  watched  the  Prince's  face,  and 
she  saw  that  she  had  produced  the  right  impression  from 
the  first.  The  plausibility  of  the  tale,  as  she  told  it,  was 
undeniable,  and  might  have  shaken  the  belief  in  Grhis 
leri's  integrity  in  the  minds  of  men  who  knew  him  far 
better  than  the  elder  Savelli.  As  she  had  anticipated,  the 
latter  took  up  the  question  as  one  deeply  affecting  the 
honour  of  his  name.  He  was  very  angry  in  his  calm  way, 
and  his  blue  eyes  flashed  through  his  great  gold-rimmed 
spectacles,  while  his  slender,  energetic  white  hand 
clenched  itself  and  opened  frequently  upon  his  knee. 

"  You  have  done  right  in  coming  to  me  directly,"  he 
said,  when  she  had  finished  and  was  wiping  away  the 
tears  which,  in  her  nervous  state,  she  had  found  easy  to 
bring  to  her  eyes.  "  Francesco  would  not  have  known 
how  to  act.  He  would  probably  have  done  the  villain  the 
honour  of  fighting  with  him.  But  I  will  bring  him  to 
justice.  The  law  provides  very  amply  for  crimes  of  this 
sort.  I  confess  I  am  strongly  tempted  to  go  and  speak 
to  the  man  myself.  Francesco  could  not  resist  the  temp- 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  367 

tation,  but  he  is  almost  a  boy.  The  cowardly  scoundrel 
of  a  Tuscan !  " 

He  thrust  back  his  long,  greyish-brown  hair  from  his 
forehead  with  one  hand,  and  shook  the  other  in  the  air  as 
though  at  a  real  adversary.  When  he  did  that  he  was 
always  roused  to  real  anger,  as  Adele  knew.  She  feared 
lest  he  should  do  something  more  or  less  rash  which 
would  not  ultimately  be  of  any  advantage  to  her. 

"  Would  it  not  be  wise  to  speak  to  my  father  ? "  she 
asked.  "  He  knows  a  great  deal  about  the  law,  I  believe." 

"  Yes,  perhaps  so.  Gerano  is  a  very  sensible  man.  As 
this  affects  you,  besides  Francesco  and  all  of  us,  it  might 
be  as  well  to  consult  him,  or  at  all  events  to  put  him  in 
possession  of  all  the  facts.  In  the  meanwhile,  you  know 
I  am  a  methodical  man.  I  must  have  proper  notes  to  go 
upon  from  the  first.  If  it  does  not  pain  you  too  much 
to  go  over  the  main  points  once  more,  I  will  write  down 
what  I  need." 

"And  I  will  hand  you  these  papers  to  keep,"  said 
Adele,  giving  him  the  correspondence,  which  comprised 
the  greater  number  of  Ghisleri's  letters,  the  two  of  her 
own  which  she  had  not  sent  to  Laura,  the  two  she  had 
received  from  the  lawyer  Ubaldini,  and  Laura  Arden's 
card  in  its  envelope  to  "  Maria  B."  With  regard  to 
Ubaldini,  she  told  exactly  what  had  happened,  and  what 
she  had  written,  for  that  incident  at  least  was  still  a 
mystery  to  her,  and  she  thought  it  unwise  to  conceal 
what  might  subsequently  come  to  light  through  other 
persons. 

"  I  have  heard  of  this  fellow,"  said  the  Prince,  thought 
fully.  "  He  is  a  very  clever  criminal  lawyer.  I  should 
not  wonder  if  Ghisleri  had  already  consulted  him.  One 
may  expect  anything  after  what  you  have  told  me." 

Adele  recapitulated  the  story  with  extraordinary  exact 
ness,  stopping  and  repeating  those  portions  of  it  which 
her  father-in-law  desired  to  note. 

"  I  have  never  seen  a  more  complete  chain  of  evidence, " 
exclaimed  the  latter,  when  he  had  finished  and  was  fold- 


368 


PIETRO    GHISLERI. 


ing  up  the  sheets  neatly  to  match  the  size  of  the  letters 
Adele  had  given  him.  "There  is  no  court  of  justice  in 
the  world  that  would  not  convict  a  man  of  extortion  on 
such  testimony,  and  if  there  is  one.  I  hope  it  is  not  in 
Kome." 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Adele,  who  would  have  smiled  had 
she  been  alone.  "  But  you  may  find  it  harder  to  con 
vince  my  father  than  a  Koman  jury.  He  is  prejudiced 
in  Ghisleri's  favour  —  like  most  people  who  do  not  know 
him  as  I  do." 

"  He  shall  change  his  prejudices  before  long,"  answered 
Savelli,  in  a  tone  of  certainty.  "I  will  send  word  to 
him  to  expect  me  after  breakfast,  and  I  will  explain 
the  whole  matter  to  him  and  show  him  the  letters.  If 
he  does  not  at  once  understand,  it  would  be  better  that 
we  should  both  come  to  you  together.  You  would  make 
it  clearer  than  I  could,  perhaps.  But  it  seems  clear 
enough  to  me.  What  an  infamous  affair  —  and  how  you 
must  have  suffered  !  " 

"  It  is  killing  me  !  "  said  Adele,  in  a  low  voice. 
Savelli  left  her  with  many  expressions  of  kindly  sym 
pathy.  He  was  not  a  good  judge  of  human  nature,' for 
he  lived  too  much  in  his  studies  and  in  the  world  of 
mathematics  to  understand  or  appreciate  the  motives  of 
men  and  women.  But  he  was  kind  of  heart  and  affec 
tionate  by  disposition.  So  far  as  he  knew,  Adele  had 
been  a  good  wife  to  his  eldest  son,  and  was  the  mother 
of  strong,  well-grown  children  who  bore  the  ancient  name 
in  which  he  took  such  pride.  Moreover,  Adele  had  the 
honour  of  lending  still  greater  lustre  to  the  race  by  means 
of  the  great  Braccio  inheritance,  which  was  all  to  come 
to  the  Savelli  through  her.  She  was,  therefore,  a  very 
important  personage,  as  well  as  a  dutiful  daughter-in-law 
and  a  good  mother,  in  the  eyes  of  the  head  of  the  house, 
and  it  would  no  more  have  crossed  his  mind  that  the 
story  she  had  just  told  him  was  a  fabrication,  from  first 
to  last,  than  that  the  Greenwich  Almanack  for  the  year 
could  be  a  fraud  and  a  malicious  misstatement  of  the 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  369 

movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies.  Moreover,  the  evi 
dence  was,  on  the  whole,  such  as  would  have  staggered  the 
faith  of  most  of  Ghisleri's  acquaintances.  The  Prince 
lost  no  time  in  going  to  see  Gerano,  prepared  at  all  points 
and  armed  with  the  papers  Adele  had  given  him. 

The  interview  lasted  fully  two  hours,  and  when  it  was 
over,  Adele's  father  was  almost  as  thoroughly  persuaded 
of  Ghisleri's  guilt  as  Savelli  himself.  His  face  was  very 
grave  and  thoughtful  as  he  leaned  back  in  his  easy-chair 
and  looked  into  his  old  friend's  clear  blue  eyes. 

"  The  man  should  be  tried,  convicted,  and  sent  to  the 
galleys,"  said  Gerano.  "  There  can  be  no  doubt  of  the 
justice  of  that,  if  all  this  can  be  established  in  court. 
Kemember  I  do  not  doubt  my  daughter's  word,  and  it 
would  be  monstrous  to  suppose  that  she  has  invented  this 
story.  Whatever  the  truth  about  it  may  be,  it  must  be 
thoroughly  investigated.  But  there  may  be  a  good  deal  of 
exaggeration  about  it,  for  I  have  known  Adele  to  over 
state  a  case.  There  is  a  great  difference  between  shut 
ting  one's  door  on  a  man.  or  turning  him  out  of  his  club, 
and  bringing  an  accusation  against  him  which,  if  proved, 
will  entail  a  term  of  penal  servitude.  You  see  that,  I  am 
sure.  Do  you  not  think  that  we  ought  to  go  and  see 
Ghisleri  together,  tell  him  what  we  have  learned,  and 
ask  him  to  justify  himself  if  he  can  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  would  be  wiser  to  consult  the  lawyers  first/' 
answered  Savelli.  "  If  they  are  of  opinion  that  he  is  a 
criminal,  there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  give  him 
warning  that  he  may  defend  himself,  as  though  he  were 
an  honest  man.  If  they  believe  that  this  is  not  a  case 
for  the  law,  there  will  always  be  time  for  us  to  go  and 
see  him,  since  no  open  steps  will  have  been  taken." 

Gerano  was  obliged  to  admit  that  there  was  truth  in 
this,  though  his  instinct  told  him  that  Ghisleri  should  be 
heard  before  being  accused.  He  was  one  of  those  men 
whose  faith  being  once  shaken  is  not  easily  re-established, 
and  he  could  not  forget  that  his  daughter  had  once  de 
ceived  him,  a  fact  with  which  Savelli  was  now  also 

2s 


370  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

acquainted,  since  Adele  had  told  him  the  whole  truth 
about  that  part  of  the  story,  but  to  which  he  attached  rel 
atively  little  importance  as  compared  with  Ghisleri's  vil- 
lanous  conduct  in  attempting  to  extort  money  from  a 
member  of  the  Savelli  family. 

The  two  agreed  upon  the  lawyer  whom  they  would  con 
sult,  and  on  the  next  day  the  first  meeting  took  place  at 
the  Palazzo  Braccio.  The  man  they  employed  was  el 
derly,  steady,  and  experienced,  and  rather  inclined  to  be 
over-cautious.  He  refused  to  give  any  decisive  opinion 
on  the  case  until  he  had  studied  it  in  all  its  bearings, 
thoroughly  examined  the  letters,  and  ascertained  the 
authenticity  of  the  card  on  which  Lady  Herbert  had 
written  her  thanks  in  pencil.  This,  of  course,  was  the 
only  one  of  the  documents  in  evidence  of  which  he  could 
doubt  the  genuineness,  since  it  was  the  only  one  which 
had  not  come  direct  from  the  hand  of  the  writer.  Oddly 
enough,  the  lawyer  attached  very  great  weight  to  it,  for  he 
said  that  it  proved  conclusively  that  Lady  Herbert  Arden 
had  considered  the  matter  as  serious  and  had  really  paid 
money — whether  a  small  or  a  large  amount  mattered 
little  —  in  order  to  get  possession  of  some  of  the  letters 
which  proved  G-hisleri's  guilt.  It  would  be  very  useful 
if  the  woman  "  Maria  B."  could  be  traced  and  called  as  a 
witness,  but  even  if  she  could  not  be  found,  Lady  Herbert 
could  not  refuse  her  evidence  and  would  not,  upon  her 
oath,  deny  having  sent  the  money  or  having  received 
Adele's  letters  in  return  for  it.  Considering  the  terms  of 
intimacy  on  which  she  stood  with  Ghisleri,  the  point 
was  a  very  strong  one  against  the  latter's  innocence. 
The  two  princes  were  of  the  same  opinion.  Gerano  was 
for  asking  Laura  directly  if  she  knew  of  the  affair,  but  was 
overruled  by  Savelli  and  the  lawyer,  who  objected  that 
she  might  give  Ghisleri  warning.  Gerano  could  not  move 
in  the  matter  without  the  consent  of  the  other  two,  and 
resigned  himself,  though  he  looked  upon  the  card  as  very 
doubtful  evidence,  and  suggested  that  it  might  have  been 
found  accidentally  by  the  woman  who  had  come  to  Donna 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  871 

Adele,  and  used  by  her  as  an  additional  means  of  induc 
ing  the  latter  to  give  her  money.  But  neither  Prince 
Savelli  nor  the  lawyer  was  inclined  to  believe  in  any  acci 
dent  which  could  weaken  the  chain  of  evidence  they  held. 

There  was  no  further  meeting  for  several  days,  during 
which  time  the  lawyer  was  at  work  in  examining  every 
point  which  he  considered  vulnerable.  Being  himself  a 
perfectly  honest  man  and  having  received  the  informa 
tion  he  was  to  make  use  of  from  the  father  and  father-in- 
law  of  the  lady  concerned,  it  would  have  been  very  strange 
if  he  had  entertained  any  doubts  as  to  her  veracity. 
Adele  had  thought  of  this  herself  and  was  satisfied  that 
throughout  all  the  preliminaries  her  position  would  be  as 
strong  as  she  could  wish  it  to  be.  The  struggle  would 
begin  when  Ghisleri  was  warned  of  what  was  now  being 
prepared  against  him,  and  began  to  defend  himself.  Of 
one  thing  she  was  persuaded.  If  he  had  the  confession 
in  his  hands,  he  would  not  produce  it.  Nothing  could 
prove  her  case  so  conclusively  as  his  avowal  that  the  let 
ter  was  in  his  hands.  If  he  could  demonstrate  that  he 
had  never  seen  it  and  was  wholly  ignorant  of  its  contents, 
her  own  case  would  fall  through.  The  action,  however, 
if  brought,  would  be  a  criminal  one,  and  he  would  not 
be  allowed  to  give  his  own  evidence.  It  would  be  hard, 
indeed,  to  find  any  one  who  could  swear  to  what  would  be 
necessary  to  clear  him. 

The  lawyer  came  back  to  his  clients  at  last,  and  in 
formed  them  that  it  was  his  opinion  that  there  was  suf 
ficient  evidence  for  obtaining  a  warrant  of  arrest  against 
Pietro  Ghisleri,  and  that  in  all  probability  the  latter 
would  be  convicted,  on  his  trial,  of  an  infamous  attempt 
to  extort  money  from  the  Princess  Adele  Savelli,  as  he 
called  her  in  his  written  notes.  He  warned  them,  how 
ever,  that  Ghisleri  would  almost  undoubtedly  be  admitted 
to  bail,  that  he  was  a  man  who  had  numerous  and  powerful 
friends  in  all  parties,  that  he  would  doubtless  be  granted 
a  first  and  second  appeal,  and  that  the  publicity  and  scan 
dal  of  the  whole  case  would  be  enormous.  On  the  whole, 


372  PIETRQ  GHISLERI. 

he  advised  his  clients  to  settle  the  matter  privately.  He 
would,  if  they  desired  it,  accompany  them  to  Signer 
Ghisleri's  lodgings,  and  state  to  him  the  legal  point  of 
view  with  all  the  clearness  he  had  at  his  command.  It 
was  not  impossible,  it  was  even  probable,  that  Ghisleri 
would  quietly  give  up  the  document  in  question,  and  sign 
a  paper  binding  himself  never  to  refer  to  its  existence 
again  and  acknowledging  that  he  had  made  use  of  it  to 
frighten  the  Princess  Adele  Savelli.  The  said  document 
could  then  be  returned  to  her  and  the  affair  might  be 
considered  as  safely  concluded.  The  lawyer  did  not  be 
lieve  that  Signor  Ghisleri  would  expose  himself  to  certain 
arrest  and  probable  conviction,  when  he  had  the  means  of 
escaping  from  both  in  his  hands.  Socially  the  two  gentle 
men  could  afterwards  do  what  they  pleased,  and  could  of 
course  force  him  to  leave  Koine  with  ignominy,  never  to 
show  himself  there  again. 

Prince  Savelli,  on  the  whole,  concurred  in  this  view. 
The  Prince  of  Gerano  said  that  he  had  known  Ghisleri 
long  and  well,  and  that  the  latter  would  probably  surprise 
them  by  throwing  quite  a  new  light  on  the  case,  though 
he  would  not  be  able  to  clear  himself  altogether.  He, 
Gerano,  was  therefore  of  the  same  opinion  as  the  others, 
and  he  quietly  reminded  Savelli  that  he  had  been  the 
first  to  propose  visiting  Ghisleri  and  demanding  a  per 
sonal  explanation. 

On  the  same  evening  Pietro  received  a  note.  Prince 
Savelli  and  the  Prince  of  Gerano  presented  their  com 
pliments  to  Signor  Ghisleri,  and  begged  to  ask  whether 
it  would  be  convenient  to  him  to  receive  them  and  their 
legal  adviser  on  the  following  morning  at  half-past  ten 
o'clock,  to  confer  upon  a  question  of  grave  importance. 
Ghisleri  answered  that  he  should  be  much  honoured  by 
the  visit  proposed,  and  he  at  once  sent  word  to  Ubaldini 
to  come  to  him  at  eight  o'clock,  two  hours  and  a  half 
before  he  expected  the  others.  He  at  once  suspected 
mischief,  though  he  had  hardly  been  prepared  to  see  it 
arrive  in  such  a  very  solemn  and  dignified  shape.  He 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  373 

asked  Ubaldini's  opinion  at  once,  when  the  latter  came  as 
requested. 

"It  is  impossible  to  say  what  that  good  lady  has 
done/7  said  the  young  lawyer  after  some  moments  of 
thoughtful  consideration.  "  You  may  take  it  for  granted, 
however,  that  both  Prince  Savelli  and  the  Prince  of 
G-erano  believe  that  you  are  in  possession  of  the  lost 
letter,  and  that  they  will  make  an  attempt  to  force  you 
to  give  it  up.  You  would  do  well  not  to  speak  of  me, 
but  you  can  say  that  you  foresaw  that  Donna  Adele 
intended  to  make  use  of  your  letters  when  she  wrote  the 
first  one,  asking  you  to  purchase  the  manuscript  for  her, 
and  that  you  have  kept  copies  of  your  answers,  as  well 
as  the  originals  of  her  communications.  If  we  are  quick 
about  it,  we  can  bring  an  action  against  her  for  defama 
tion  before  she  can  do  anything  definite.'' 

"I  will  never  consent  to  that,"  answered  Ghisleri, 
smiling  at  Ubaldini's  ideas  of  social  honour. 

"  Why  not  ? "  asked  the  lawyer,  in  some  surprise. 
"  You  would  very  probably  win  it  and  cast  her  for  heavy 
damages." 

"  I  would  certainly  never  do  such  a  thing,"  replied 
Pietro.  "  I  should  not  think  it  honourable  to  bring  any 
such  action  against  a  lady." 

Ubaldini  shrugged  his  shoulders,  being  quite  unable 
to  comprehend  his  client's  point  of  view. 

"I  cannot  do  anything  to  help  you,  until  we  know 
what  these  gentlemen  have  to  say,"  he  observed.  "  If 
you  wish  it,  I  will  be  present  at  the  interview,  but  it  is 
as  well  that  they  should  not  find  out  who  your  lawyer  is, 
until  something  definite  is  to  be  done." 

Ghisleri  agreed,  and  Ubaldini  went  away,  promising 
to  hold  himself  at  his  client's  disposal  at  a  moment's 
notice.  Pietro  sat  down  to  think  over  the  situation. 
Danger  of  some  sort  was  evidently  imminent,  but  he 
could  only  form  a  very  vague  idea  of  its  nature,  and 
Ubaldini  had  certainly  not  helped  him  much,  sharp- 
witted  and  keen  as  he  was.  Ghisleri,  who,  of  course, 


374  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

could  not  see  the  case  as  Adele  had  stated  it  to  her 
father-in-law,  and  as  it  was  now  to  be  stated  to  himself, 
could  not  conceive  it  possible  that  he  could  be  indicted 
for  extortion  on  such  slender  evidence  as  he  supposed  she 
had  been  able  to  fabricate.  He  imagined  that  she  desired 
his  social  ruin,  and  above  all,  to  make  him  for  ever  con 
temptible  in  the  eyes  of  Laura  Arden ;  and  this  he  well 
knew,  or  thought  that  he  knew,  she  could  never  accom 
plish. 

Laura  had  not  yet  returned,  and  he  was  glad,  on  the 
whole,  that  she  was  away.  Matters  were  evidently  com 
ing  to  a  crisis,  and  he  believed  that  whatever  was  to 
happen  would  have  long  been  over  by  the  time  she  was 
in  Rome  again.  If  she  had  already  arrived  he  would 
have  found  it  hard  not  to  tell  her  of  what  occurred  from 
day  to  day,  and,  indeed,  he  would  have  felt  almost  obliged 
to  do  so  for  the  sake  of  her  opinion  of  him,  seeing  how 
frankly  and  loyally  she  had  acted  in  the  case  of  the 
letters  she  had  received  from  the  supposititious  "Maria 
B."  On  the  other  hand,  he  longed  to  see  her  for  her 
own  sake.  The  summer  months  had  been  desperately 
long  and  lonely.  He  did  not  remember  that  he  had  ever 
found  the  time  weigh  so  heavily  on  his  hands  as  this 
year,  both  at  Torre  de'  Ghisleri  and  in  Rome.  He  forgot 
his  present  danger  and  the  interview  before  him  in 
thinking  of  Laura  Arden,  when  Bonifazio  threw  open 
the  door  and  announced  Prince  Savelli,  the  Prince  of 
Gerano,  and  the  Advocato  Geronimo  Grondona. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

GHISLERI  rose  to  meet  his  visitors,  who  greeted  him 
gravely  and  sat  down  opposite  him  so  that  they  could  all 
look  at  his  face  while  speaking.  Prince  Savelli  naturally 
spoke  first. 

"We  have  come  to  you,"  he  said,  "upon  a  very  dim- 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  375 

cult  and  unpleasant  affair.  In  the  first  place,  I  must  beg 
you  to  listen  to  what  I  have  to  say  as  calmly  as  you  can, 
remembering  that  we  have  not  come  here  to  quarrel  with 
you,  but  to  act  on  behalf  of  a  lady.  This  being  the  case, 
we  claim  to  be  treated  as  ambassadors,  to  be  heard  and 
to  be  answered." 

"  You  speak  as  though  you  were  about  to  make  a  very 
disagreeable  communication,"  answered  Ghisleri.  "  The 
presence  of  Signor  Grondona  either  shows  that  you 
intend  to  make  use  of  what  I  may  say,  or  that  your  busi 
ness  is  of  a  legal  nature.  If  the  latter  supposition  is 
the  true  one,  it  would  be  much  better  that  we  should 
leave  the  whole  matter  to  our  respective  lawyers  rather 
than  run  the  risk  of  useless  discussion.  But  if  your 
lawyer  is  here  to  watch  me  and  make  notes,  I  would 
point  out  that  I  have  a  right  to  resent  such  observation, 
and  to  request  you  to  find  some  other  means  of  inform 
ing  me  of  your  meaning.  As  you  tell  me  that  you  are 
acting  for  a  lady,  however,  and  claim  personal  immunity, 
so  to  say,  for  yourselves,  I  am  willing  to  listen  to  you  and 
to  consider  what  you  say  as  proceeding  from  her  and  not 
from  you.  But  in  no  case  have  you  any  claim  to  be 
answered.  That  is  the  most  I  can  do  towards  helping 
you  with  your  errand.  Judge  for  yourselves  whether 
you  will  execute  it  or  not." 

"  I  will  certainly  not  go  away  without  saying  what  I 
have  come  to  say,"  replied  Savelli,  fixing  his  bright, 
spectacled  eyes  upon  Ghisleri's  face.  "  We  are  here  to 
represent  Donna  Adele  Savelli  —  let  that  be  understood, 
if  you  please.  She  wishes  you  to  hand  over  to  us  a 
certain  letter,  of  the  nature  of  a  confession,  which  you 
found  at  Gerano  about  two  years  and  a  half  ago,  and 
which  you  still  hold." 

Ghisleri  was  less  surprised  than  might  have  been 
expected.  His  face  grew  slowly  pale  as  he  listened, 
steadily  returning  the  speaker's  gaze. 

"  I  promised  you  personal  immunity  from  the  conse 
quences  of  what  you  were  about  to  say,"  he  answered 


376 


PIETRO    GHISLERI. 


slowly.  "  It  was  a  rash  promise,  I  find,  but  I  will  keep 
it.  You  may  inform  Donna  Adele  Savelli  that  although 
it  is  commonly  said  in  the  world  that  she  has  actually 
lost  such  a  letter  as  you  mention,  I  have  never  seen  it. 
nor  have  I  any  knowledge  of  its  contents.  Further,  I 
demand,  as  a  right,  to  be  told  upon  what  imaginary  evi 
dence  she  ventures  to  bring  such  an  outrageous  accusation 
against  me." 

The  Advocato  Grondona  smiled,  but  the  two  noblemen 
preserved  an  unmoved  manner.  Of  the  two,  Gerano  was 
the  more  surprised  by  Ghisleri's  answer.  He  had 
believed  that  a  letter  really  existed  and  was  in  the 
latter's  hands,  but  that  it  would  not  prove  to  have  the 
importance  his  daughter  attached  to  it.  Prince  Savelli 
produced  a  bundle  of  papers  from  his  pocket. 

"I  am  quite  prepared,"  he  said.  "I  will  state  my 
daughter-in-law's  case  as  accurately  as  I  can,  and  as 
nearly  as  possible  in  her  own  words,  a  great  part  of  which 
I  have  here,  in  the  form  of  notes." 

"  It  is  understood  that  Donna  Adele  Savelli  is  speak 
ing,  gentlemen.  On  that  understanding  you  have  my 
permission  to  proceed.  I  will  not  interrupt  you." 

Savelli  began  to  speak,  and,  as  he  had  promised,  he 
stated  the  case  as  he  had  heard  it  from  Adele  and,  on 
the  whole,  very  much  as  she  had  summed  it  up  in  her 
own  mind  before  going  to  him.  Ghisleri  sat  with  folded 
arms  and  bent  brows,  listening  to  the  wonderfully  con 
nected  chain  of  false  testimony  she  brought  against  him, 
with  all  the  courage  and  calmness  he  could  command. 

"  Have  you  done  ?  "  he  inquired  in  a  voice  shaking 
with  anger,  when  Savelli  had  finished. 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  latter  coolly.  "  I  believe  that  is 
all." 

"  Then  I  have  to  say  that  a  more  villanous  calumny 
was  never  invented  to  ruin  any  man.  Good  morning, 
gentlemen."  He  rose,  and  the  three  others  were  obliged 
to  rise  also. 

"  And  so  you  positively  refuse  to  give  up  the  letter  ?  " 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  377 

inquired  Savelli ;  there  was  an  angry  light  in  his  eyes, 
too. 

"  I  have  given  you  my  answer  already.  Be  good 
enough  to  convey  it  to  Donna  Adele  Savelli." 

"  Are  you  aware,  Sigiiore,"  said  the  lawyer,  stepping 
in  front  of  his  two  clients,  "  that  upon  such  evidence  as 
we  possess  you  are  liable  to  be  indicted  for  an  attempt 
to  extort  money  from  the  Princess  Adele  Savelli  ?  " 

"You  are  not  privileged,  like  these  gentlemen,"  said 
Ghisleri,  white  to  the  lips.  "If  you  venture  to  speak 
again,  my  servant  will  silence  you.  I  have  already 
hinted  that  this  interview  is  ended,"  he  added  to  Savelli 
and  Gerano. 

The  three  went  out  in  silence  and  left  him  alone. 
With  characteristic  coolness  he  sat  down  to  recover 
from  the  violent  shock  he  had  sustained,  and  to  reflect 
upon  his  future  conduct,  before  sending  for  Ubaldini 
and  consulting  with  him.  He  had  almost  expected 
the  demand  to  restore  a  document  he  did  not  possess, 
but  he  was  not  prepared  for  the  well-constructed  story 
by  which  Savelli,  Gerano,  and  their  lawyer  had  been 
persuaded  of  his  guilt.  The  lawyer's  words  had  placed 
the  whole  affair  in  a  light  which  showed  how  thoroughly 
convinced  the  three  men  were  of  the  justice  of  their 
accusation,  and  Ghisleri  understood  well  enough  that 
Savelli  intended  to  take  legal  steps.  What  those  steps 
might  be,  Pietro  had  not  the  least  idea.  He  rang  for 
Bonifazio  and  sent  him  out  to  buy  the  Penal  Code. 
It  was  probably  the  wisest  thing  he  could  do  under  the 
circumstances,  as  he  did  not  even  know  whether,  if  he 
were  arrested,  he  should  be  admitted  to  bail  or  not.  He 
saw  well  enough  that  an  order  for  his  arrest  might  very 
possibly  be  issued.  Grondona  was  far  too  grave  and 
learned  a  lawyer  to  have  uttered  such  a  threat  in  vain,  and 
was  not  the  man  to  waste  time  or  words  when  action  was 
possible.  If  he  had  spoken  as  he  had,  he  had  done  so  for 
his  clients'  advantage,  in  the  hope  that  Ghisleri  might  be 
frightened  at  the  last  minute  into  giving  up  the  letter.  In 
that  way  all  publicity  and  scandal  could  have  been  avoided. 


378  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

But  it  was  clear  that  the  die  was  cast,  and  that  war 
was  declared.  More  than  ever,  he  was  glad  that  Laura 
Arden  was  not  in  Eoine.  The  thought  that  if  she  were 
present  she  would  necessarily  have  to  follow  the 
course  of  events  little  by  little,  as  he  must  himself, 
and  the  certainty  that  she  knew  the  truth  and  would  feel 
the  keenest  sympathy  for  him,  made  him  rejoice  at  her 
absence.  When  she  learned  what  had  taken  place,  she 
would  know  all  the  circumstances  at  once,  including 
Ghisleri's  proof  of  his  innocence,  which,  as  he  felt  sure, 
would  be  triumphant.  In  the  meantime,  she  should  be 
kept  in  ignorance  of  what  was  occurring.  Having  decided 
this  point,  he  began  to  think  of  choosing  some  person  to 
whom,  if  he  were  actually  arrested,  he  might  apply  for 
assistance  in  the  matter  of  obtaining  bail.  There  was 
no  time  to  be  lost,  as  he  was  well  aware.  Since  Savelli 
really  believed  him  guilty  of  the  abominable  crime  with 
which  he  was  charged,  it  was  not  likely  that  time  would 
be  given  him  to  leave  the  country,  as  his  adversaries 
would  naturally  expect  that  he  would  attempt  to  do. 
They  had  probably  gone  straight  from  his  lodging  to  the 
office  of  the  chief  of  police,  —  the  questore,  as  he  is  called 
in  Italy,  —  and  if  they  succeeded,  as  in  all  likelihood  they 
would,  in  getting  a  warrant  for  his  arrest,  he  might 
expect  the  warrant  to  be  executed  at  any  moment  during 
the  day.  It  was  extremely  important  that  he  should  be 
prepared  for  the  worst.  He  thought  of  all  the  men  he 
knew,  and  after  a  little  hesitation  he  decided  that  he 
would  write  to  San  Giacinto.  The  latter  had  always 
been  friendly  to  him,  and  Pietro  remembered  how  he 
had  spoken  at  the  club,  years  ago,  when  Pietrasanta  was 
gossiping  about  Arden's  supposed  intemperance.  San 
Giacinto's  very  great  moral  weight  in  the  world,  due  in 
different  degrees  to  his  character,  his  superior  judgment, 
and  his  enormous  wealth,  made  him  the  most  desirable 
of  allies.  While  he  was  waiting  for  Bonifazio's  return, 
Ghisleri  occupied  himself  in  writing  a  note  advising  San 
Giacinto  of  the  circumstances,  and  inquiring  whether  he 
might  ask  him  for  help. 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  379 

The  servant  returned  as  he  finished,  and  handed  his 
master  the  little  yellow-covered  volume  with  an  expres 
sion  of  inquiry  on  his  face.  Ghisleri  looked  at  him  and 
hesitated,  debating  whether  it  would  be  wise  to  warn  the 
man  of  what  might  take  place  at  any  moment.  There 
was  much  friendliness  in  the  relations  between  the  two. 
Bonifazio  had  been  with  Pietro  many  years  and  perhaps 
understood  the  latter's  character  better  than  any  one. 
The  servant  was  almost  as  unlike  other  people,  in  his  own 
way,  as  Ghisleri  himself,  and  was  in  two  respects  a  re 
markable  contrast  to  him.  He  was  imperturbably  good- 
tempered  in  the  first  place,  and,  in  the  second,  he  was 
extremely  devout.  But  there  were  resemblances  also, 
and  it  was  for  these  that  Ghisleri  liked  him.  He  was 
honest  to  a  fault.  He  had  more  than  once  proved  him 
self  to  be  coolly  courageous  in  some  of  his  master's  dan 
gerous  expeditions.  Finally,  he  was  discretion  itself, 
and  reticent  in  the  highest  degree.  That  such  an  other 
wise  perfect  creature  should  have  defects  was  only  to  be 
expected.  Bonifazio  was  as  obstinate  as  flint  when  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  as  to  how  any  particular  thing  was  to 
be  done.  He  was  silently  officious,  in  his  anxiety  to  be 
always  ready  to  fulfil  his  master's  wishes,  and  often  an 
noyed  him  in  small  ways  by  thrusting  services  upon  him 
which  he  did  not  require.  On  rare  occasions  he  would 
insist  upon  giving  very  useless  and  uncalled-for  advice. 

Faithful  and  devoted  in  every  way,  he  wholly  disap 
proved,  on  religious  grounds,  of  Ghisleri's  mode  of  life, 
even  so  far  as  he  was  acquainted  with  it.  He  considered 
that  Pietro  lived  and  had  lived  for  many  years  in  seven 
fold  deadly  sin,  and  he  daily  offered  up  the  most  sincere 
prayers  for  Pietro's  repentance  and  reformation.  Twice 
a  year,  also,  he  privately  presented  the  parish  priest  with 
a  small  charity  out  of  his  savings,  requesting  him  to  say  a 
mass  for  Ghisleri's  benefit.  Obstinate  in  this  as  in  every 
thing  else,  he  firmly  believed  that  his  master's  soul  might 
ultimately  be  saved  by  sheer  prayer-power,  so  to  say. 

These  last  facts,  of  course,  did  not  come  within  Ghis- 


380  PIETRO    GHISLEKI. 

leri's  knowledge,  for  Bonifazio  made  no  outward  show  of 
pious  interest  in  Pietro's  spiritual  welfare,  well  knowing 
that  he  could  not  keep  his  situation  an  hour,  if  he  were  so 
unwise  as  to  risk  anything  of  the  kind.  But  his  silent  dis 
approval  showed  itself  in  his  mournful  expression  when 
Pietro  had  done  anything  which  struck  him  as  more  than 
usually  wicked  and  wild.  The  question  of  informing 
him  that  the  police  might  be  expected  at  any  moment 
was  not  in  itself  a  serious  one.  He  would  assuredly  dis 
believe  the  whole  story,  and  vigorously  deny  the  accusa 
tion  when  acquainted  with  both.  Ghisleri  determined  to 
say  nothing  and  immediately  sent  him  out  again  with  the 
note  for  San  Giacinto.  He  then  took  up  the  Penal  Code, 
and  found  the  article  referring  to  the  misdeed  of  which 
he  was  accused.  It  read  as  follows  : 

ART.  409.  Whosoever,  by  in  any  way  inspiring  fear  of  severe 
injury  to  the  person,  the  honour,  or  the  property  of  another,  or  by 
falsely  representing  the  order  of  an  Authority,  constrains  that  other 
to  send,  deposit,  or  place  at  the  disposal  of  the  delinquent  money, 
objects,  or  documents  having  any  legal  import  whatsoever,  is  pun 
ished  with  imprisonment  for  a  term  of  from  two  to  ten  years. 

The  law  was  clear  enough.  With  regard  to  bail,  he 
discovered  with  some  difficulty  that  in  such  cases  it  could 
be  obtained  immediately,  either  on  depositing  the  sum  of 
money  considered  requisite  according  to  circumstances,  or 
by  the  surety  of  one  or  more  well-known  persons. 

San  Giacinto  answered  the  note  by  appearing  in  per 
son.  When  he  undertook  anything,  he  generally  pro 
ceeded  to  the  scene  of  action  at  once  to  ascertain  for 
himself  the  true  state  of  the  case.  Ghisleri  explained 
matters  as  succinctly  as  possible. 

"  You  will  hardly  believe  that  such  things  can  be  done 
in  our  day,"  he  said  as  he  concluded. 

"  I  have  seen  enough  in  my  time,  and  amongst  my  own 
near  connexions,  to  know  that  almost  anything  conceiv 
able  may  happen,"  answered  the  giant.  "  Mean  while  I 
shall  not  leave  you  until  the  police  come,  or  until  we 


PIETKO    GHISLERI.  381 

know  definitely  that  they  are  not  coming.  My  carriage 
is  below  and  has  orders  to  wait  all  day  and  all  night." 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  say  you  really  intend  to  stay 
with  me  ? "  asked  Ghisleri,  who  was  not  prepared  for 
such  a  manifestation  of  friendship. 

"  That  is  my  intention,"  replied  the  other,  calmly  light 
ing  a  long  black  cigar.  "If  it  lasts  long,  I  will  sleep  on 
your  sofa.  If,  however,  you  prefer  that  I  should  go  to 
Savelli  and  make  him  tell  me  what  he  intends  to  do,  I  am 
quite  ready.  I  think  I  could  make  him  tell  me." 

"  I  think  you  could,"  said  Ghisleri,  with  a  smile,  as  he 
looked  at  his  friend. 

The  huge,  giant  strength  of  the  man  was  imposing  in 
itself,  apart  from  the  terribly  determined  look  of  the  iron 
features  and  deep-set  eyes.  Few  men  would  have  cared 
to  find  themselves  opposed  to  San  Giacinto  even  when  he 
was  perfectly  calm,  hardly  any,  perhaps,  if  his  anger  was 
roused.  The  last  time  he  had  been  angry  had  been  when 
he  dragged  the  forger,  Arnoldo  Meschini,  from  the  library 
to  the  study  in  Palazzo  Monte varchi  more  than  twenty 
years  earlier.  His  hair  was  turning  grey  now,  but  there 
were  no  outward  signs  of  any  diminution  in  his  powers, 
physical  or  mental. 

"In  any  case,"  he  said,  "some  time  must  elapse.  It 
will  need  the  greater  part  of  the  day  to  get  a  warrant  of 
arrest." 

Ghisleri  would  have  been  glad  to  end  his  suspense  by 
allowing  his  friend  to  go  directly  to  Savelli,  as  he  had 
proposed  to  do.  But  considering  what  he  had  already 
shown  himself  ready  to  do,  Pietro  did  not  wish  to  involve 
him  in  the  affair  any  further  than  necessary. 

"  Is  it  of  any  use  to  send  for  my  lawyer  ? "  asked 
Ghisleri,  well  aware  of  San  Giacinto's  superior  experience 
in  all  legal  matters. 

"  There  is  not  the  least  hurry,"  answered  the  latter. 
"If  the  affair  is  brought  to  trial,  there  will  be  time 
enough  and  to  spare.  But  if  it  amuses  you,  let  us  have 
the  man  here  and  ask  his  opinion.  It  can  do  no  harm." 


382  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

Accordingly  Ubaldini  was  sent  for.  He  looked  very 
grave  when  Ghisleri  had  repeated  all  that  Savelli  had 
told  him. 

"  But  the  mere  fact  that  I  consulted  you  when  I  did," 
said  Ghisleri,  "and  had  copies  of  my  answers  made, 
ought  to  prove  at  once  that  I  knew  even  then  what  Donna 
Adele  wished  to  attempt."  But  Ubaldini  only  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 

"That  will  be  against  you,"  answered  San  Giacinto. 
"  It  will  be  said  that  you  were  well  aware  of  what  you 
were  doing,  and  that  you  were  taking  precautions  in  case 
of  exposure.  Even  if  Lady  Herbert  were  here  to  give 
evidence,  it  would  not  help  you  much.  After  all,  Donna 
Adele's  story  about  the  seamstress  is  plausible,  and  Lady 
Herbert  took  your  explanation  on  faith." 

"  Lady  Herbert  shall  not  be  called  as  a  witness,  if  I  can 
help  it,"  said  Ghisleri.  "  It  is  bad  enough  that  her  name 
should  appear  at  all." 

"The  difficulty,"  observed  Ubaldini,  "is  that  every 
point  can  be  turned  against  you  from  first  to  last.  I  am 
afraid  that  even  my  little  stratagem  has  done  no  good. 
I  wished  to  find  out  whether  the  confession  really  existed, 
and  I  thought  it  best  that  you  should  be  in  ignorance  of 
the  steps  I  took  and  of  the  result  I  obtained,  in  case  you 
should  be  called  upon  to  swear  to  anything  in  a  possible 
action  brought  by  you  for  defamation.  The  less  an  inno 
cent  man  knows  of  the  facts  of  a  case,  when  he  is  on  his 
oath,  the  better  it  generally  turns  out  for  him.  The 
first  thing  to  be  done  is  to  find  the  dealer  with  whom 
you  negotiated  for  the  purchase  of  the  manuscript. 
His  evidence  will  be  the  strongest  we  can  get.  Of 
course,  even  to  that  they  will  answer  that  you  would  not 
be  so  foolish  as  to  write  what  looked  like  an  account  of 
a  genuine  transaction  without  lending  an  air  of  truth  to 
it,  in  case  of  necessity,  by  actually  making  inquiries 
about  it.  If  it  is  found  that  the  prices  named  in  your 
letters  agree  with  those  asked  by  the  dealer,  they  will 
say  that  you  cleverly  chose  a  very  valuable  work,  and 


PIETEO    GHISLERI.  383 

determined  to  be  guided  by  the  value  of  it,  in  appraising 
the  letter  you  held.  If  the  prices  did  not  agree,  they 
would  say  that  even  if  the  transaction  were  genuine,  you 
had  conducted  it  dishonestly;  but  then,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  the  discovery  was  a  good  proof  that  it  was  a  mere 
sham.  Of  course,  too,  you  will  have  friends,  like  the  Sig- 
nor  Marchese  here  present,  who  will  swear  to  your  pre 
vious  character ;  but  you  must  not  forget  that  in  a  case  like 
this  the  great  body  of  educated  public  and  social  opinion 
is  with  the  woman  rather  than  the  man." 

"  In  other  words,"  said  Ghisleri,  with  a  laugh,  "  I  am 
to  stand  my  trial  for  extortion,  and  am  very  likely  to  be 
convicted.  You  are  not  very  encouraging,  Signer  Ubal- 
dini,  but  I  suppose  you  will  find  a  word  to  say  in  my 
defence  before  everything  is  over." 

"I  will  do  my  best,"  answered  the  young  lawyer, 
thoughtfully.  "  I  would  like  to  know  where  this  confes 
sion  is.  One  thing  is  quite  certain :  if  it  had  got  into 
the  hands  of  a  dishonest  person,  Donna  Adele  would 
have  heard  of  it  before  now,  and  would  have  tried  to 
buy  it,  as  she  did  try  to  get  it  from  the  maid  Lucia, 
according  to  her  own  account,  and  from  me.  In  the 
meanwhile,  I  will  go  and  examine  the  dealer.  Will  you 
kindly  give  me  his  name  and  address." 

Ghisleri  wrote  both  on  a  card  and  Ubaldini  went  away. 
Before  Ghisleri  and  San  Giacinto  had  been  alone  to 
gether  half  an  hour,  he  came  back,  looking  rather  pale 
and  excited. 

"It  is  most  unfortunate,"  he  exclaimed.  "The  devil 
is  certainly  in  this  business.  The  man  was  buried  yester 
day.  He  died  of  apoplexy  two  days  ago." 

"Nothing  surpasses  the  stupidity  of  that!"  cried  San 
Giacinto,  angrily.  "  Why  could  not  the  idiot  have  lived 
a  fortnight  longer  ?  " 

Ghisleri  said  nothing,  but  he  saw  what  importance  both 
his  friend  and  the  lawyer  had  attached  to  the  dead  man's 
testimony.  There  was  little  hope  that  his  clerk  would 
be  able  to  say  anything  in  Ghisleri' s  favour.  He  had  of 


384  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

course  only  spoken  with  the  dealer  himself,  generally  in 
a  private  room  and  without  witnesses.  He  began  to 
fear  that  his  case  was  even  worse  than  he  had  at  first 
supposed. 

"The  best  possible  defence,  in  my  opinion,"  said 
Ubaldini,  "  is  to  tell  your  own  story  and  compare  it,  inch 
by  inch,  with  theirs.  I  believe  that,  after  all,  yours  will 
seem  by  far  the  more  probable  in  the  eyes  of  any  court 
of  justice.  Then  we  will  question  Donna  Adele's  sanity, 
and  bring  a  couple  of  celebrated  authorities  to  prove  that 
people  who  use  morphia  often  go  mad  and  have  fixed 
ideas.  Donna  Adele's  delusion  is  that  you  are  the  pos 
sessor  of  her  confession.  If  we  cannot  prove  that  it  has 
been  all  this  time  in  the  hands  of  some  one  else,  we  may 
at  least  be  able  to  show  that  there  is  no  particular  reason 
why  it  should  have  been  in  yours,  that  you  are  certainly 
not  in  need  of  fifty  thousand  francs,  and  that,  so  far  as 
any  one  knows,  you  are  not  the  man  to  try  and  get  it  in 
this  way  if  you  were.  We  will  do  the  best  we  can.  I 
got  a  man  off  scot  free  the  other  day  who  had  murdered 
his  brother  in  the  presence  of  three  witnesses.  I  proved 
that  one  was  half-witted,  that  the  second  was  drunk,  and 
that  the  third  could  not  possibly  have  been  present  at  all, 
because  he  ought  to  have  been  somewhere  else.  That 
was  a  much  harder  case  than  this.  The  jury  shed  tears 
of  pity  for  my  ill-used  client." 

"I  will  do  without  the  tears,"  said  Ghisleri,  with  a 
smile,  "  provided  they  will  see  the  truth  this  time." 

San  Giacinto  kept  his  word,  and  refused  to  leave  Ghis- 
leri's  lodging  that  night,  sending  Bonifazio  to  his  house 
for  clothes  and  necessaries,  and  ordering  fresh  horses  and 
another  coachman  and  footman  to  replace  those  that  had 
waited  all  day.  He  distinctly  objected  to  cabs,  he  said, 
because  they  were  always  too  small  for  him ;  and  if  Ghis 
leri  was  to  be  arrested,  he  intended  to  drive  with  him  to 
the  prison  in  order  to  give  bail  for  him  immediately. 
And  so  he  did.  On  the  following  day  Koine  was  sur 
prised  by  a  spectacle  unique  in  the  recollection  of  its 


PIETRO  GHISLERI.  385 

inhabitants,  high  or  low.  The  largest  of  the  large  open 
carriages  belonging  to  Casa  San  Giacinto  was  seen  rolling 
solemnly  through  the  city,  bearing  Pietro  Ghisleri,  the 
Marchese  di  San  Giacinto  himself,  and  two  policemen, 
who  looked  very  uncomfortable  as  they  sat,  bolt  upright, 
side  by  side,  with  their  backs  to  the  horses.  A  few  hours 
later,  the  same  carriage  appeared  again,  Pietro  and  the 
giant  being  still  in  it,  but  without  the  officers  of  the  law. 
San  Giacinto  insisted  upon  driving  his  friend  six  times 
round  the  Villa  Borghese,  six  times  round  the  Pincio, 
and  four  times  the  length  of  the  Corso,  before  taking 
him  back  at  last  to  his  lodgings. 

"It  will  produce  a  good  effect,"  he  said ;  "most  people 
are  fools  or  cowards,  or  both,  and  imitation  as  a  rule 
needs  neither  courage  nor  wisdom.  Come  and  dine  with 
us  to-morrow  night,  and  I  will  have  a  party  ready  for 
you  who  do  not  belong  to  the  majority.  I  shall  go  to 
the  club  now  and  give  an  account  of  the  day's  doings." 

"  Why  not  wait  and  let  people  find  out  for  themselves 
what  has  happened?"  asked  Pietro.  "Will  it  do  any 
good  to  talk  of  it  ?  " 

"  Since  people  must  talk  or  die,"  answered  San  Gia 
cinto,  "  I  am  of  opinion  that  they  had  better  tell  the 
truth  than  invent  lies." 

When  he  was  gone  Ghisleri  wondered  what  had  im 
pelled  him  to  take  so  much  trouble.  It  would  have  been 
quite  enough  if  he  had  appeared  at  the  right  moment  to 
give  security  for  him/  and  that  alone  would  have  been  a 
very  valuable  service.  But  San  Giacinto  had  done  much 
more,  for  his  action  had  shown  the  world  from  the  first 
that  he  intended  to  take  Ghisleri's  side.  The  latter,  who 
was  always  surprised  when  any  one  showed  anything 
approaching  to  friendship  for  him,  was  exceedingly 
grateful,  and  determined  that  he  would  not  in  future 
laugh  at  the  idea  of  spontaneous  human  kindness  without 
motive,  as  he  had  often  laughed  in  the  past. 

Meanwhile  San  Giacinto  went  to  his  club.  A  score 
of  men  were  lounging  in  the  rooms,  and  most  of  them 

2c 


386  P1ETRO   GHISLERI. 

had  been  talking  of  the  new  scandal,  though  in  a  rather 
guarded  way,  for  no  one  wished  to  quarrel  either  with 
Ghisleri  or  his  ally.  On  seeing  the  latter  go  to  the 
smoking-room,  almost  every  one  in  the  club  followed  him, 
out  of  curiosity,  in  the  hope  that  he  would  give  some 
explanation  of  what  had  occurred.  They  were  not 
disappointed.  San  Giacinto  stood  with  his  back  to  the 
fireplace,  looking  at  each  face  that  presented  itself  be 
fore  him. 

" Gentlemen,"  he  began :  "I  see  that  you  expect  me 
to  say  something.  I  will.  I  do  not  wish  to  offend  any 
one;  but,  with  the  exception  of  all  of  ourselves  here 
assembled,  most  people  tell  lies,  consciously  or  uncon 
sciously,  when  they  do  not  know  the  truth,  and  some 
times  when  they  do,  which  is  worse.  So  I  mean  to  tell 
you  the  truth  about  my  driving  with  Ghisleri  and  two 
policemen  to-day,  and  the  reason  why  I  have  been  driv 
ing  with  him  all  the  afternoon.  After  that  you  may 
believe  what  you  like  about  the  matter.  The  facts  are 
these.  Yesterday  Ghisleri  wrote  me  a  note  telling  me 
that  he  expected  shortly  to  be  arrested  on  a  charge  of 
extortion  and  asking  if  I  would  be  bail  for  him.  That 
is  what  I  have  done.  The  accusation  comes  from  Casa 
Savelli,  and  declares  that  for  two  years  and  a  half  Ghis 
leri  has  had  possession  of  that  letter  belonging  to  Donna 
Adele  which  she  wrote  to  her  confessor,  which  was  lost 
on  the  way,  and  of  which  we  have  all  heard  vague  hints 
for  some  time.  Casa  Savelli  says  that  Ghisleri  has  been 
trying  to  make  her  pay  money  for  it,  and  has  otherwise 
made  her  life  unbearable  to  her  by  means  of  it.  There 
are  letters  of  Ghisleri's  referring  to  the  manuscript  of 
Isabella  Montevarchi's  confession  which  was  for  sale  this 
autumn,  and  Casa  Savelli  says  that  this  manuscript  was 
spoken  of  in  order  to  disguise  the  real  transaction  con 
templated.  Ghisleri  says  it  is  a  plot  to  ruin  him,  and 
that  he  has  been  aware  of  it  ever  since  last  spring. 
Meanwhile  he  has  actually  been  arrested  and  I  have 
given  bail  for  him.  That  is  the  story.  I  drove  about 


PIETEO   GHISLERI.  387 

with  him  this  afternoon  to  show  that  I,  for  niy  part,  take 
his  side,  and  believe  him  to  be  perfectly  innocent.  That 
is  what  I  had  to  say.  I  am  obliged  to  you  for  having 
listened  so  patiently." 

As  he  turned  to  go  away,  not  caring  for  any  further 
discussion  at  the  time,  he  was  aware  that  a  dark  man  of 
medium  height,  with  very  broad  shoulders  and  fierce, 
black  eyes,  was  standing  beside  him,  facing  the  crowd. 

"  I  am  entirely  of  San  Giacinto's  opinion,"  said  Gian- 
forte  Campodonico,  in  clear  tones.  "  I  believe  Ghisleri 
utterly  incapable  of  any  such  baseness.  Donna  Adele 
Savelli  is  a  relation  of  mine,  but  I  will  stand  by  Ghisleri 
in  this,  come  what  may.  I  hope  that  no  one  will  have 
the  audacity  to  propose  any  action  of  the  club  in  the 
case,  such  as  requesting  him  to  withdraw,  until  after  the 
trial." 

"  But  when  a  man  is  indicted  for  crime,  and  has  been 
arrested  —  "  began  some  one  in  the  crowd. 

"  I  said,"  repeated  Gianforte,  interrupting  the  speaker 
in  a  hard  and  menacing  voice,  "  that  I  hoped  no  one 
would  have  the  audacity  to  propose  that  the  club  should 
take  any  action  in  the  case.  I  hope  I  have  made  myself 
clearly  understood." 

Such  was  the  character  and  reputation  of  Campodo 
nico  that  the  man  who  had  begun  to  speak  did  not  at 
tempt  to  proceed,  not  so  much  from  timidity,  perhaps,  as 
because  he  felt  that  in  the  end  two  men  like  Gianforte  and 
San  Giacinto  must  carry  public  opinion  with  them.  As 
they  stood  side  by  side  before  the  fireplace,  they  were  as 
strong  and  determined  a  pair  of  champions  as  any  one 
could  have  wished  to  have. 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  said  San  Giacinto,  in  an  approv 
ing  tone.  "Of  course  I  have  neither  the  power  nor  the 
right  to  prevent  discussion.  Every  one  will  talk  about 
this  case  and  the  trial,  and  as  it  is  a  public  affair  every  one 
has  a  right  to  do  so,  I  suppose.  I  only  wish  it  to  be 
known  that  I  believe  Ghisleri  innocent,  and  I  am  glad 
to  see  that  Campodonico,  who  knows  him  very  well,  is 
of  my  opinion." 


388  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

After  this  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  said,  and  the 
crowd  dispersed,  talking  together  in  low  tones.  The  two 
men  who  had  undertaken  Ghisleri's  defence  remained 
together.  San  G-iacinto  looked  down  at  his  young  com 
panion,  and  his  stern  face  softened  strangely.  A  cer 
tain  kind  of  manly  courage  and  generosity  was  the  only 
thing  that  ever  really  touched  him. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  that  there  are  still  men  in  the 
world,"  he  said.  "  Will  you  have  a  game  of  billiards  ?  " 

The  first  result  of  this  was  that  there  was  relatively 
very  little  talk  about  Ghisleri  among  the  men  when 
they  were  together.  It  is  probable  that  both  San  Gia- 
cinto  and  Campodonico  would  have  spoken  precisely  as 
they  did,  if  all  the  assembled  tribe  of  Savelli  and  Ge- 
rano  had  been  present  to  hear  them ;  and  when  the  two 
families  heard  what  had  been  said,  they  were  very  angry 
indeed.  Unfortunately  for  them,  nothing  could  be  done. 
As  San  Giacinto  had  rightly  put  it,  the  trial  was  to  be  a 
public  affair,  and  every  one  had  a  right  to  his  own  opin 
ion.  But  there  were  not  wanting  those  who  sided  with 
the  Savelli,  for  though  Ghisleri  had  few  enemies,  if 
any,  besides  Adele,  yet  there  were  many  who  were  jeal 
ous  of  him  for  his  social  successes,  and  who  disliked 
his  calm  air  of  superiority.  The  story  became  the  con 
stant  topic  of  conversation  in  most  of  the  Roman  fami 
lies,  and  many  who  had  for  years  received  Ghisleri 
immediately  determined  that  they  would  be  very  cau 
tious  and  cool  until  he  should  prove  his  innocence  to  the 
world. 

He  himself,  during  the  days  which  followed,  saw  much 
of  San  Giacinto,  who  told  him  what  Campodonico  had  said 
at  the  club. 


PIETBO   GHISLEKI.  389 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

WHEN  Laura  Arden  returned  to  Koine,  she  was  met  by 
her  mother  with  a  full  account  of  what  had  taken  place. 
Under  any  ordinary  circumstances  the  Princess  of  Ge- 
rano  would  have  been  very  merciful  in  her  judgment  and 
would  assuredly  not  have  hastened  to  give  her  daughter 
every  detail  of  the  last  great  scandal.  But  she  had 
never  liked  Ghisleri,  and  she  had  feared  that  Laura  was 
falling  in  love  with  him,  and  he  with  Laura.  Moreover, 
neither  her  love  for  her  own  child  nor  Adele's  shortcom 
ings  had  destroyed  all  her  affection  for  the  latter,  and 
under  her  husband's  influence  she  had  lately  come  to  look 
upon  Ghisleri  as  a  monster  of  iniquity  and  on  Adele 
as  little  less  than  a  martyr.  She  spared  Laura  nothing 
as  she  told  the  story,  and  was  unconsciously  guilty  of 
considerable  exaggeration  in  explaining  the  view  the 
world  in  general  took  of  the  case,  though  that  was  bad 
enough  at  best.  Laura's  dark  eyes  flashed  with  indigna 
tion  as  she  listened. 

"  I  do  not  believe  a  word  of  this  story,  mother,"  she 
said.  "  As  for  the  part  I  am  supposed  to  have  played 
in  it,  you  had  better  know  the  truth  at  once.  When  I 
got  those  letters,  I  sent  for  Signor  Ghisleri,  and  gave 
them  to  him.  We  knew  at  once  that  they  came  from 
Adele  herself." 

She  told  her  mother  exactly  what  had  occurred,  and 
how  she  had  believed  in  him  then,  and  should  believe  in 
him  still.  The  Princess  sighed  and  shook  her  head. 

"  There  is  very  little  left  to  believe  in,  my  dear,"  she 
said,  "  trustful  though  you  are,  to  a  fault.  I  hope  you 
will  at  all  events  not  receive  him  until  after  the  trial. 
Indeed,  it  will  be  quite  impossible  —  I  am  sure  you  would 
not  think  of  it.  If  he  has  any  sense  of  decency  left,  he 
will  not  call." 

"  I  will  not  only  receive  him,"  answered  Laura,  without 


390  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

hesitation  :  "  whenever  he  chooses  to  come,  but  if  he  does 
not  coine  of  his  own  accord,  I  will  make  him.  What  is 
the  use  of  friendship,  if  it  will  not  bear  any  test  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  is  of  no  use  to  discuss  the  matter,"  said 
the  Princess,  wearily.  "  You  will  do  as  you  please.  I 
do  not  recognise  you  any  longer." 

As  soon  as  her  mother  was  gone,  Laura  wrote  a  note  to 
Pietro,  telling  him  that  she  had  heard  all  the  story,  that 
she  believed  in  him  as  firmly  as  ever,  and  begging  him  to 
come  and  see  her  on  the  following  day  at  the  usual  hour. 
The  last  words  dropped  from  her  pen  naturally.  It 
seemed  but  yesterday  that  they  had  spoken  of  meeting 
"  at  the  usual  hour  "  on  the  morrow  of  the  day  after  that. 
Ghisleri's  heart  beat  faster  as  he  broke  the  seal,  and  when 
he  came  to  the  words  he  was  conscious  that  its  beating 
annoyed  him.  He  knew,  now,  that  he  loved  her  well,  as 
he  had  loved  but  once  before  in  his  life.  But  he  deter 
mined  that  he  would  not  go  and  see  her.  He  blessed  her 
for  believing  in  his  innocence,  but  there  were  many  strong 
reasons  against  his  going  to  her  house,  or  even  seeing  her. 
Merely  on  general  grounds  he  would  have  kept  away, 
while  under  the  accusation  which  hung  over  him,  as  even 
the  Princess  of  Gerano  had  anticipated  that  he  would, 
and  feeling  as  he  did  that  he  loved  her  in  good  earnest, 
it  would  have  seemed  absolutely  dishonourable  to  renew 
their  former  relations  until  he  had  cleared  himself.  He 
wrote  her  a  short  note. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  —  I  am  deeply  touched  by  your  wishing  to 
see  me,  and  I  am  more  than  ever  grateful  for  your  friendship  and 
for  the  faith  you  have  in  me.  But  I  will  not  come  to  you  at 
present.  I  am  accused  of  a  crime  worse  than  most  crimes,  in  my 
opinion,  and  the  world  is  by  no  means  altogether  on  my  side. 
When  I  have  cleared  myself  publicly,  I  will  come  and  thank  you  — 
if  I  can  find  words  for  the  thanks  you  deserve. 

"  Most  gratefully  and  faithfully, 

"  PIETRO  GHISLERI." 

He  was  not  prepared  for  the  answer  which  came  within 
the  hour  in  the  shape  of  a  second  note,  short,  vigor- 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  391 

ous,  and  decisive.  It  seemed  hard  to  realise  that  the 
sweet,  dark  woman  with  deep,  holy  eyes,  as  he  had  once 
described  her,  could  be  the  writer  of  such  determined 
words. 

"Mr  DEAR  SIGNOR  GHISLERI:— I  care  for  the  world  and  its 
opinion  much  less  than  you  do  for  my  sake,  or  than  you  suppose  I 
do  for  myself.  I  mean  to  see  you,  and  to  have  it  known  that  I  see 
you,  and  I  will.  If  you  are  not  here  to-morrow  at  precisely  one 
o'clock  I  will  go  to  your  lodgings  and  wait  for  you  if  you  are  out. 
People  may  say  what  they  please. 

"  Ever  yours  sincerely, 

"LAURA  ARDEN." 

G-hisleri  read  the  note  over  several  times,  to  be  quite 
sure  that  he  had  not  misunderstood  it,  and  then  burned 
it,  as  he  had  always  burned  everything  in  the  nature  of 
writing  until  his  last  difficulties  had  begun.  He  saw  that 
Laura  had  forced  the  situation,  and  he  knew  her  well 
enough  not  to  doubt  that  she  would  execute  her  threat  to 
the  letter,  and  wait  for  him,  watch  in  hand,  on  the  mor 
row.  He  hated  himself  for  being  glad,  for  he  knew  that 
the  world  she  despised  would  give  her  little  credit  for  her 
generous  act.  Yet,  in  spite  of  his  self-contempt,  he  was 
happy.  Five  minutes  before  one  o'clock  on  the  next  day 
he  rang  at  her  door.  She  had  returned  as  usual  to  the 
small  apartment  she  had  occupied  since  leaving  the  Tem- 
pietto. 

He  found  her  dressed  for  walking,  all  in  black,  and 
looking  at  the  clock.  As  he  entered  she  turned  and 
laughed  happily.  There  was  a  faint  colour  in  her  cheeks 
too. 

"  I  knew  you  would  not  let  me  ruin  my  reputation  for 
the  sake  of  your  obstinacy,"  she  said,  as  she  came  for 
ward  to  meet  him.  "In  four  minutes  I  would  have 
left  the  house."  She  grasped  his  hand  warmly  as  she 
spoke. 

"No,"  he  said,  "I  could  not  have  done  that.  What 
ways  you  have  of  forcing  people  to  obey  you  !  But  you 
are  very  wrong ;  I  still  maintain  that." 


PIETEO   GHISLERL 

"Sit  down,"  she  said,  "and  let  us  talk  of  more  inter 
esting  things.  I  must  hear  the  whole  story  from  your 
own  lips,  though  I  am  sure  my  mother  did  her  best  to  be 
quite  truthful;  but  she  does  not  understand  you  and 
never  will,  as  I  begin  to  think." 

"Tell  me  first  how  you  are,  and  about  Herbert,"  said 
Ghisleri.  «  You  will  hear  quite  enough  of  this  miserable 
affair.  It  will  keep  a  day  or  two." 

"It  need  not  keep  so  long  as  that,"  answered  Laura, 
"  I  can  tell  you  the  news  in  a  few  words.  I  am  perfectly 
well.  Herbert  is  perfectly  well  too,  thank  God,  and  has 
outgrown  his  clothes  twice  and  his  shoes  four  times 
since  we  have  been  away.  Since  I  last  wrote  great  tilings 
have  happened.  I  have  been  in  England  again  at  last, 
and  have  stayed  with  the  Lulworths.  You  see  I  am  in 
mourning.  Uncle  Herbert  died  a  month  ago. '  I  never 
saw  the  old  gentleman  but  once,  for  he  lived  in  the  most 
extraordinary  way,  in  complete  isolation.  You  know  that 
-well,  he  is  dead,  and  he  has  left  all  the  fortune  to  my 
Herbert,  with  a  life  interest  in  one-quarter  of  it  for  me, 
besides  an  enormous  allowance  for  Herbert's  education. 
That  is  all  there  is  to  tell." 

" It  is  good  news  indeed,"  said  Ghisleri.  "I  am  so  glad. 
It  will  make  an  immense  difference  to  you,  though  of 
course  you  have  known  of  it  a  long  time." 

"It  will  not  make  so  much  difference  as  you  fancy. 
I  shall  go  on  living  much  as  I  do,  for  I  have  had  almost 
all  I  wanted  in  these  years.  But  I  am  glad  for  Herbert's 
sake,  of  course.  And  now  begin,  please,  and  do  not  stop 
until  you  have  told  me  everything." 

"Needs  must,  when  you  will  anything,"  Ghisleri 
answered,  with  a  faint  smile. 

So  he  told  her  the  story,  while  she  listened  and  watched 
him.  She  had  developed  in  strength  and  decision  during 
the  last  year,  more  rapidly  than  before,  and  he  felt  in 
speaking  to  her  as  though  she  had  power  to  help  him 
and  would  use  it.  He  was  grateful,  and  more  than 
grateful.  Within  the  last  few  weeks  he  had  learned  that 


PIETKO   GHISLEKI.  393 

the  strongest  and  most  determined  men  may  sometimes 
need  a  friend.  He  had  long  had  one  in  her,  and  he  had 
found  a  new  one  in  San  G-iacinto ;  but  though  the  latter's 
imposing  personality  had  more  influence  in  the  world 
than  that  of  any  man  Ghisleri  knew,  there  was  that  in 
Laura's  sympathy  which  gave  him  a  new  strength  of  his 
own,  and  fresh  courage  to  face  the  many  troubles  he  ex 
pected  to  encounter  before  long.  For  man  gets  no  such 
strength  in  life  to  do  great  deeds  or  to  bear  torments 
sudden  and  sharp  or  mean,  little  and  harassing,  as  he 
gets  from  the  woman  he  loves,  even  though  he  does  not 
yet  know  that  she  loves  him  again. 

"  I  hope  I  do  not  take  my  own  side  too  much,"  he  said, 
as  he  ended  the  long  tale,  "though  I  suppose  that  when 
a  man  is  perfectly  innocent  he  has  a  right  to  say  hard 
things  of  people  who  accuse  him.  For  my  own  part,  I 
believe  that  Donna  Adele  is  mad.  There  is  the  ingenuity 
of  madness  in  everything  she  does  in  this  affair.  No  sane 
person  could  invent  such  a  story  almost  out  of  nothing, 
and  make  half  the  world  believe  it." 

"She  may  be  mad,"  Laura  answered,  "but  she  is  bad, 
too.  It  will  all  come  out  at  the  trial,  and  she  will  get 
what  she  deserves." 

"  I  hope  so.  But  do  you  know  what  I  really  expect  ? 
Unless  it  can  be  proved  that  the  confession  has  been  all 
the  time  in  the  safe  keeping  of  some  person  who  has  not 
even  read  it,  I  shall  be  convicted  and  imprisoned.  I  am 
quite  prepared  for  that.  I  suppose  that  will  come  to  me 
by  way  of  expiation  for  my  sins." 

"Please  do  not  talk  like  that,"  cried  Laura.  "It  is 
absurd !  There  is  no  court  in  the  world  that  would  con 
vict  you — a  perfectly  innocent  man.  Besides  I  shall 
give  my  evidence  about  those  letters.  I  shall  insist  upon 
it.  That  alone  would  be  enough  to  clear  you." 

"  I  am  afraid  not.  Even  my  lawyer  thinks  that  your 
testimony  would  not  help  me  much.  After  all,  you  know 
what  happened.  I  told  you  that  I  was  innocent,  and  you 
believed  me.  Or,  if  you  please,  you  believed  me  innocent 


394  PIETKO   GHISLEKI. 

before  I  said  I  was.  There  is  only  your  belief  or  my 
word  to  fall  back  upon,  and  neither  would  prove  any 
thing  in  court.  Ubaldini  says  so.  I  really  expect  to  be 
convicted,  and  I  will  bear  it  as  well  as  I  can.  I  will 
certainly  not  do  anything  to  escape  from  it  all."  He 
had  hesitated  as  he  reached  the  ^last  words,  but  he  saw 
that  Laura  understood. 

"  You  should  not  even  think  of  such  things,"  she  said 
gravely.  "You  are  far  too  brave  a  man  to  take  your 
own  life  even  if  you  were  convicted,  and  you  shall  not 
be.  I  tell  you  that  you  shall  not  be ! "  she  repeated,  with 
sudden  energy. 

"  No  one  can  tell.  But  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  if 
you  were  angry  you  might  terrify  judge  and  jury  into 
doing  whatever  you  pleased."  He  laughed  a  little. 
"You  have  grown  so  strong  of  late  that  I  hardly  rec 
ognise  you.  What  has  made  the  change  ?  " 

"  Something  —  I  cannot  explain  it  to  you.  Besides  — 
was  I  ever  a  weak  woman  ?  Did  I  ever  hesitate  much  ?  " 

"No,  that  is  true.  Perhaps  I  did  not  use  the  right 
word.  You  seem  more  active,  more  alive,  more  deter 
mined  to  influence  other  people." 

"  Do  I  ?  It  may  be  true.  I  fancy  I  am  less  saint-like 
in  your  opinion  than  I  was.  I  am  glad  of  it.  You  used 
to  think  me  quite  different  from  what  I  was.  But  I 
know  that  I  have  changed  during  this  summer.  I  feel 
it  now." 

"So  have  I.  The  change  began  before  you  went 
away."  Ghisleri  glanced  at  her,  and  then  looked  at  the 
wall. 

A  short  silence  followed.  Both  felt  strangely  con 
scious  that  their  former  relation  had  not  been  renewed 
exactly  where  it  had  been  interrupted  by  their  separation 
in  the  summer.  But  there  was  nothing  awkward  about 
the  present  break  in  the  conversation. 

"In  what  way  have  you  changed?"  asked  Laura  at 
last.  She  had  evidently  been  thinking  of  his  words 
during  the  pause. 


PIETRO    GHISLERI. 


395 


"Indeed  I  should  find  it  hard  to  tell  you  now,"  Ghis- 
leri  answered,  with  a  smile  at  the  thought  uppermost  in 
his  mind.  "I  would  rather  not  try." 

" Is  it  for  the  worse,  then  ?  "    Laura's  eyes  sought  his. 
"  No.      It  is  for  the  better.      Perhaps,  some  day,  if  all 
this  turns  out  less  badly  —  "     He  stopped,  angry  with 
himself  for  having  said  even  that  much. 

"  Shall  you  have  more  confidence  in  me  when  the  trial 
is  over?"  asked  Laura,  leaning  back  and  looking  down. 
"Have  I  shown  that  I  believe  in  you,  or  not,  to-day?" 
Had  she  known  what  was  so  near  his  lips  to  say,  she 
might  not  have  spoken. 

"You  have  done  what  few  women  would  have  done. 
You  know  that  I  know  it.  If  I  will  not  say  what  I  am 
thinking  of,  it  is  for  that  very  reason."  His  fingers 
clasped  each  other  and  unclasped  again  with  a  sharp, 
nervous  movement. 

"I  am  sorry  you  do  not  trust  me  altogether,"  said 
Laura. 

"  Please  do  not  say  that.  I  do  trust  you  altogether. 
But  I  respect  you  too.  Will  you  forgive  me  if  I  go  away 
rather  suddenly  ?  "  He  rose  as  he  spoke  and  held  out 
his  hand. 

"  You  are  not  ill,  are  you  ?  "  Laura  stood  up,  looking 
anxiously  into  his  face.  Unconsciously  she  had  taken 
his  hand  in  both  of  her  own. 

«  No  —  I  am  not  ill.     Good-bye  ! " 
"Come  to-morrow,  please.     I  want  to  see  you  often. 
Promise  to  come  to-morrow."     Her  tone  was  imperative, 
and  he  knew  that  she  had  the  power  to  force  him  to 
compliance. 

He  yielded  out  of  necessity,  and  left  her.  When  he 
was  in  the  street  he  stood  still  a  few  moments,  leaning 
upon  his  stick  as  though  he  were  exhausted.  His  face 
was  white.  Oddly  enough,  what  he  felt  recalled  an 
accident  which  had  once  happened  to  him.  On  a  calm, 
hot  day,  several  years  earlier,  he  had  been  slowly  sailing 
along  a  southern  shore.  The  heat  had  been  intense,  and 


396  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

he  had  thrown  himself  into  the  water  to  get  a  little 
coolness,  holding  by  a  rope,  and  allowing  himself  to  be 
towed  along  under  the  side  of  the  boat.  Then  one  of 
the  men  called  to  him  loudly  to  come  aboard  as  quickly 
as  he  could.  As  he  reached  the  deck,  the  straight  black 
fin  of  a  big  shark  glided  smoothly  by.  He  could  re 
member  the  shadow  it  cast  on  the  bright  blue  water,  and 
the  sensation  he  experienced  when  he  saw  how  near  he 
had  unconsciously  been  to  a  hideous  death.  Like  many 
brave  but  very  sensitive  men,  he  had  turned  pale  when 
the  danger  was  quite  past  and  had  felt  for  one  moment 
something  like  physical  exhaustion.  The  same  feeling 
overtook  him  now  as  he  paused  on  the  pavement  before 
the  house  in  which  Laura  Arden  lived.  An  instant  later 
he  was  walking  rapidly  homeward. 

At  the  corner  of  a  street  he  came  suddenly  upon  Gian- 
forte  Campodonico.  Both  men  raised  their  hats  almost 
at  the  same  moment,  for  their  relations  were  necessarily 
maintained  upon  rather  formal  terms.  Ghisleri  owed  his 
old  adversary  a  debt  of  gratitude  for  his  conduct  at  the 
club,  but  a  rather  exaggerated  sense  of  delicacy  hindered 
Pietro  from  stopping  and  speaking  with  him  in  the  street. 
Campodonico,  however,  would  not  let  him  pass  on  and 
stood  still  as  Ghisleri  came  up  to  him. 

"  I  wish  to  thank  you  with  all  my  heart  for  the  gener 
ous  way  in  which  you  have  spoken  of  me,"  said  Ghisleri, 
grasping  the  other's  ready  outstretched  hand. 

"You  have  nothing  to  thank  me  for,"  replied  Gian- 
forte.  "  Knowing  you  to  be  a  perfectly  honourable  and 
honest  man,  I  should  have  been  a  coward  if  I  had  held 
my  tongue.  You  have  a  good  friend  in  San  Giacinto, 
and  I  suppose  I  cannot  be  of  much  use  to  you.  But  if  I 
can,  send  for  me.  I  shall  never  like  you  perhaps,  but 
I  will  stand  by  you,  because  I  respect  you  as  much  as 
any  man  living." 

"I  thank  you  sincerely,"  said  Ghisleri,  pressing  his 
hand  again.  "  You  are  very  generous." 

«  No,  but  I  try  to  be  just." 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  397 

They  parted,  and  Ghisleri  pursued  his  way,  meditating 
on  the  contradictions  of  life,  and  wondering  why  at  the 
most  critical  moment  of  his  existence  the  one  man  who 
had  come  forward  unasked  and  of  his  own  free  impulse 
to  defend  him  publicly  and  to  offer  his  help,  should  be 
his  oldest  and  most  implacable  enemy.  He  was  pro 
foundly  conscious  of  the  man's  generosity.  The  world, 
he  said  to  himself,  might  not  be  such  a  bad  place  after 
all.  But  he  did  not  guess  how  soon  he  was  to  need  the 
assistance  so  freely  proffered. 

He  went  home  at  once.  Bonifazio  closed  the  door  be 
hind  him  and  followed  him  respectfully  into  the  sitting- 
room. 

"  I  beg  pardon,  signore,"  he  began,  standing  still  as  he 
waited  for  Ghisleri  to  turn  and  look  at  him. 

"  Do  you  need  money  ?  "  asked  the  latter  carelessly. 

"No,  signore.  You  have  perhaps  forgotten  that  you 
gave  me  money  yesterday.  It  is  something  which  I  have 
had  upon  my  conscience  a  long  time,  and  now  that  you 
are  falsely  accused,  signore,  it  is  my  duty  to  speak,  if 
you  permit  me." 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is."  Ghisleri  sat  down  at  his  writing- 
table,  and  lit  a  cigarette. 

"  It  is  a  very  secret  matter,  signore.  But  if  I  keep  it 
a  secret  any  longer,  I  shall  be  doing  wrong,  though  I  also 
did  wrong  in  coming  by  the  information  I  have,  though 
I  did  not  know  it.  I  have  also  been  to  a  lawyer  who 
understands  these  matters,  and  takes  an  interest  in  the 
case,  and  he  has  told  me  that  unless  some  saint  performs 
a  miracle  nothing  can  save  you  at  the  trial.  So  that  I 
must  give  my  evidence.  But  if  I  do,  the  Princess  Adele 
will  go  to  the  galleys,  and  the  house  of  Savelli  will  be 
quite  ruined.  For  the  Princess  murdered  Lord  Herbert 
Arden,  and  tried  to  murder  Donna  Laura,  as  we  call  her. 
She  invited  them  to  dinner  and  gave  them  napkins  which 
she  with  her  own  hand  had  poisoned  with  infection  of 
the  scarlet  fever,  her  maid  Lucia  having  had  it  at  the 
time.  And  Lord  Herbert  died  within  three  days,  but 


398  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

Donna  Laura  did  not  catch  it.  And  I  have  read  how  she 
did  this,  and  many  other  wicked  things,  in  a  letter  written 
with  her  own  hand.  For  it  was  I  who  found  the  confes 
sion  they  speak  of,  when  I  went  alone  to  look  at  the  old 
prisons  at  Gerano,  while  you  and  the  signori  were  out 
driving.  And  now  I  do  not  know  what  to  do,  but  I  had 
to  speak  in  order  to  save  you,  and  you  must  judge  of  the 
rest,  signore,  and  pardon  me  if  I  have  done  wrong." 

Ghisleri  knew  the  truth  at  last,  and  his  lean,  weather- 
beaten  face  expressed  well  enough  the  thirst  for  ven 
geance  that  burned  him.  He  waited  a  few  moments  and 
then  spoke  calmly  enough. 

"  Have  you  got  the  confession  here  ?  "  he  asked.  "  If 
it  is  found  in  my  house  it  will  ruin  me,  though  it  may 
ruin  Donna  Adele  too." 

"I  understand,  signore.  Have  no  fear.  I  read  it 
through,  because  I  found  it  open  and  the  leaves  scattered 
as  it  must  have  fallen,  though  how  it  fell  there  I  do  not 
know.  But  it  is  still  at  Gerano.  If  you  will  allow  me,  I 
will  explain  what  I  did.  When  I  had  read  it,  I  put  it  into 
my  pocket,  saying  to  myself  that  it  was  a  difficult  case 
for  the  conscience.  And  I  thought  about  it  for  more 
than  an  hour  while  I  walked  about  the  castle.  Then  I 
went  and  got  an  envelope  and  I  put  the  leaves  into  it 
thinking  that  perhaps  it  would  be  wrong  to  burn  it. 
So  I  wrote  on  the  outside :  '  This  was  found  in  the  prison 
of  the  castle  of  Gerano  by  Bonifazio  di  Eienzo,'  and 
I  also  wrote  the  date  in  full.  Then  at  the  tobacconist's 
shop  in  the  village  I  bought  some  wax,  and  took  a  seal  I 
have,  which  is  this  one,  signore.  It  has  '  B.  R.'  on  it. 
And  I  sealed  the  letter  with  much  wax,  so  that  the  tobac 
conist  laughed  at  me.  But  I  did  not  let  him  see  what 
was  written  on  the  envelope.  Then  I  took  it  to  the  par 
ish  priest  whose  name  is  Don  Tebaldo,  and  who  seemed  to 
me  to  be  a  very  respectable  and  good  man.  I  told  him  in 
confidence  that  I  had  found  something  which  it  was  not 
possible  for  me  to  give  to  the  rightful  owner,  but  which  I 
thought  it  would  be  wrong  to  destroy,  because  the  right- 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  399 

ful  owner  might  some  day  make  inquiry  for  it  and  wish 
to  have  it.  He  asked  many  questions,  but  I  would  not 
answer  them  all,  and  he  did  not  know  what  the  letter  was 
about  nor  that  it  was  a  confession.  So  I  begged  him  to 
put  it  into  another  envelope  and  to  seal  it  again  with  his 
own  seal,  and  I  gave  him  what  was  left  of  the  wax  I  had 
bought.  Then  he  did  as  I  asked  him,  and  wrote  on  the 
back :  <  This  was  brought  to  me  to  be  kept,  by  one  Bon- 
ifazio  di  Eienzo,  until  the  owner  claims  it.  But  it  is  to 
be  burned  when  I  die.'  And  there  it  is  to  this  day,  for  I 
have  made  inquiries  and  Don  Tebaldo  is  alive  and  well, 
and  God  bless  him !  So  I  come  to  tell  you  all  this,  in 
order  that  you  may  act  as  you  see  fit,  signore.  For  Don 
Tebaldo  can  swear  that  I  gave  him  the  letter  on  the  day 
I  found  it  and  I  can  swear  that  you  never  knew  anything 
of  it." 

G-hisleri  looked  at  his  faithful  -old  servant,  whose 
round  brown  eyes  met  his  so  steadily  and  quietly. 

"  I  can  never  thank  you  enough,  my  dear  Bonifazio," 
he  said.  "You  have  saved  me.  I  will  not  forget  it." 

"  As  for  that,  signore,  I  will  not  accept  any  present, 
and  I  humbly  beg  you  not  to  offer  me  any,  for  it  would  be 
the  price  of  blood,  such  as  Judas  Iscariot  received,  seeing 
that  the  Princess  Adele  will  go  to  the  galleys." 

"You  need  not  be  afraid  of  that,  Bonifazio,"  answered 
Ghisleri.  "Casa  Savelli  will  easily  prove  that  she  was 
mad,  as  I  believe  she  is,  and  she  will  end  her  life  in  a 
lunatic  asylum.  But  you  must  not  bring  either  Don 
Tebaldo  or  the  letter  here.  Go  at  once  to  the  Marchese 
di  San  Giacinto  and  tell  him  exactly  what  you  have  told 
me,  and  that  I  sent  you.  He  will  know  what  to  do. 
Take  money  with  you  and  execute  his  orders  exactly 
without  returning  here,  no  matter  what  they  are.  I  can 
do  without  you  for  a  week  if  necessary,  and  I  wish  to 
know  nothing  of  the  matter  until  it  is  over." 

"  Yes,  signore,"  answered  Bonifazio,  and  without  more 
words  he  left  the  room  and  went  directly  to  San  Gia- 
cinto's  house. 


400  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

The  latter  received  him  in  his  study,  and  listened  to 
his  story  with  calm  attention.  Then,  without  making 
any  remark,  he  smoked  nearly  half  a  cigar,  while  Boni- 
fazio  stood  motionless,  respectfully  watching  him.  Then 
he  rang  the  bell,  and  gave  the  man  who  answered  it  in 
structions  to  order  out  a  sort  of  mail-cart  he  used  for 
driving  himself,  and  the  strongest  horses  in  the  stable. 

"  You  must  come  with  me,'7  he  said  to  Bonifazio.  "  We 
can  be  back  before  midnight."  Then  he  began  to  write 
rapidly. 

He  wrote  a  note  to  his  cousin,  the  Prince  of  Sant'  Ilario, 
another  to  Gianforte  Campodonico,  and  then  a  rather 
longer  one  to  Savelli.  In  the  last  mentioned,  he  informed 
the  Prince  that  he  would  appear  on  the  morrow,  with 
Campodonico  and  Sant'  Ilario,  and  that  he  desired  to  be 
received  by  Savelli  himself  in  the  presence  of  Francesco 
and  Adele,  as  he  had  a  communication  of  the  highest 
importance  to  make.  In  his  usual  hard  way  he  managed 
to  convey  the  impression  that  it  would  be  decidedly  the 
worse  for  the  whole  house  of  Savelli  and  for  Adele  in 
particular  if  his  request  were  not  complied  with  to  the 
letter.  By  the  time  he  had  finished  a  servant  announced 
that  the  carriage  was  waiting.  San  Giacinto  thrust  a 
handful  of  black  cigars  and  a  box  of  matches  into  his 
outer  pocket. 

"  Come,"  he  said  to  Bonifazio,  "  I  am  ready.  It  is  a 
long  drive  to  Gerano." 

It  was  nearly  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when 
they  started,  and  the  days  were  very  short  and  the 
weather  threatening.  But  the  horses  were  splendid 
animals,  and  there  were  few  roads  between  Rome  and 
the  Abbruzzi  which  San  Giacinto  did  not  know  well. 
He  was  acting  as  he  always  did,  swiftly,  surely,  and  in 
person,  trusting  to  no  one,  and  making  himself  alone 
responsible  for  the  result.  Before  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning  he  was  back,  bringing  with  him  a  mild  and 
timid  old  priest,  muffled  in  a  horse  blanket  against  the 
bitter  wind.  But  the  sealed  packet  containing  Adele 
Savelli's  confession  was  in  his  own  pocket. 


PIETEO   GHISLERI.  401 

On  his  table  he  found  three  notes,  which  satisfied  him 
that  everything  would    take   place   as  he   had  hastily 
planned  it  before  his  departure.     Campodonico  expressed 
his  readiness  to  serve  Ghisleri  in  any  way,  Sant'  Ilario 
said  that  he  was  ready  to  support  San  Giacinto^  in  any 
thing  he  undertook,  though  he  had  never  been  intimate 
with  Ghisleri,  who  was  much  younger  than  he.     Savelli 
answered  coldly  that  he  would  receive  the  three  men  as 
requested,  adding  that  he  hoped  the  communication  would 
prove  to  be  of  such  importance  as  to  justify  putting  his 
daughter-in-law  to  the  inconvenience  which  any  prolonged 
interview  caused  her  in  her  present  state  of  ill-health. 
San  Giacinto  smiled  rather  grimly.     He  did  not  think 
that  his  visit  to  Casa  Savelli  need  be  a  very  long  one. 
Before  he  went  to  bed,  he  debated  whether  he  should 
send  word  to  Gerano  to  be  present  also,  but  he  ultimately 
decided  not  to  do  so.     It  seemed  useless  to  make  Adele's 
father  witness  his   daughter's    humiliation,   though    he 
meant  not  to  spare  either  Savelli  or  his  son.     Towards 
Adele  he  was  absolutely  pitiless.     It  was  his  nature.     If 
she  had  been  dying,  he  would  have  found  means  to  make 
her  listen  to  what  he  had  to  say.     If  she  had  been  at  the 
very  last  gasp  he  would  have  forced  his  way  to  her  bed 
side  to  say  it.     He  was  by  no  means  a  man  without  faults. 
Meanwhile  Ghisleri  was  pacing  his  room  in  solitude, 
reflecting  on  the  sudden  change  in  all  the  prospects  of 
the  future,  and  wondering  how  matters  would  be  managed, 
but  feeling  himself  perfectly  safe  in  San  Giacinto's  hands, 
and  well  understanding  that  he  was  not  to  be  informed  of 
what  had  happened  until  all  was  over.     That   San  Gia 
cinto  would  face  all  the  assembled  Savelli  and  force  them 
then  and  there  to  withdraw  all  charges  against  Ghisleri, 
the  latter  was  sure,  and,  on  the  whole,  he  was  glad  that 
he  was  not  to  witness  their   discomfiture.     But  it  was 
not  only  of  his  being  in  one   moment  cleared  of  every 
accusation  that  he  thought.     The  consequences  to  himself 
were    enormous.     He  remembered  the  sickening  horror 
he  had  felt  that  afternoon  when  he  realised  how  nearly 

2D 


402  PIETRO   GHISLEKI. 

he  had  told  Laura  that  he  loved  her.  In  four  and  twenty 
hours  there  would  be  nothing  to  hinder  him  from  speak 
ing  out  what  filled  his  heart.  If  he  chose  to  do  so,  he 
might  even  now  write  to  her  and  tell  her  what  he  had 
struggled  so  hard  to  hide  when  they  had  been  face  to 
face.  But  he  was  not  the  man  to  write  when  there  was 
a  possibility  of  speaking,  nor  to  trust  to  the  black  and 
white  of  ink  and  paper  to  say  for  him  what  he  could  say 
better  for  himself. 

Then  the  old  doubt  came  back,  and  he  spent  a  night 
of  strange  self-questioning  and  much  useless  moral  tor 
ment.  Was  this  the  last,  the  very  last  of  his  loves  ? 
He  remembered  how  a  little  less  than  three  years  earlier 
he  had  bid  good-bye  to  Maddalena  dell'  Armi,  saying  to 
himself  that  he  could  never  again  feel  his  heart  beat  at 
a  woman's  voice,  nor  his  face  turn  pale  with  passion  for 
a  woman's  kiss.  And  now  he  loved  again,  perhaps  with 
little  hope  of  seeing  his  love  returned,  but  with  the  mad 
desire  to  stake  his  fate  upon  one  cast,  and  win  or  lose  all 
for  ever.  He  had  never  felt  that  irresistible  longing 
before,  not  even  when  he  had  first  loved  Bianca  Corleone 
in  his  early  days.  Then,  it  was  true,  he  had  been  very 
young,  and  Bianca  had  not  been  like  Laura.  She  had 
been  young  herself  as  he  was,  and  had  loved  him  from 
the  first,  almost  without  hiding  it.  There  had  been  little 
need  for  words  on  either  side,  for  love  told  his  own  tale 
plainly.  Yet  it  seemed  to  him  now  that  if  he  had  then 
thought  Bianca  as  cold  as  he  had  reason  to  believe  that 
Laura  was,  he  might  have  resigned  himself  to  his  fate  at 
the  beginning  —  he  might  not  have  found  the  strength 
he  now  had  to  risk  such  a  defeat  as  perhaps  waited  him, 
to  run  any  danger,  now  that  he  was  free,  rather  than  live 
in  suspense  another  day. 


PIETRO   GHISLERI.  403 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

SANT'  ILABIO  and  Gianforte  Campodonico  rang  at  San 
Giacinto's  door  half  an  hour  before  the  time  the  latter 
had  appointed  for  his  descent  upon  Casa  Savelli.  He 
had  not  explained  the  situation  in  the  hurried  notes 
he  had  written  them  on  the  previous  day,  and  they  did 
not  know  what  was  to  take  place. 

"It  is  very  simple/'  said  San  Giacinto,  coolly.  "The 
whole  story  was  a  lie  from  beginning  to  end,  as  I  always 
believed.  The  confession  was  found  at  Gerano  and  de 
posited  with  the  parish  priest  under  seal  on  the  same 
day.  I  went  to  Gerano  and  brought  the  priest  and  the 
letter  back.  Here  it  is,  if  you  wish  to  see  the  outside  of 
it,  and  the  priest  is  waiting  in  the  next  room.  This  is 
the  document  which  Donna  Adele  will  have  signed  an 
hour  hence." 

He  produced  a  sheet  of  stamped  paper  from  the  drawer 
of  his  writing-table  and  read  aloud  what  was  written 
upon  it,  as  follows  : 

"I,  the  undersigned,  being  in  full  possession  of  my  faculties, 
and  free  of  my  will,  hereby  publicly  withdraw  each  and  every  one 
of  the  accusations  I  have  made,  publicly  or  privately,  either  in  my 
own  person  or  through  my  father,  the  Prince  of  Gerano,  or  my 
father-in-law,  Prince  Savelli,  my  husband,  Francesco,  Prince 
Savelli,  or  through  any  other  persons  purporting  to  represent  me, 
against  Pietro  Nobile  Ghisleri ;  and  I  declare  upon  my  oath  before 
God  that  there  is  not  and  never  was  any  truth  whatsoever  in  any 
one  of  the  said  accusations  upon  which  the  said  Pietro  Nobile 
Ghisleri  was  unjustly  arrested  and  accused  of  extortion  under 
Article  409  of  the  Penal  Code.  And  I  further  declare  that  the 
letters  of  his  which  I  hold  do  and  did  refer  directly  to  the  pur 
chase  of  the  manuscript  writings  of  Donna  Isabella  Montevarchi 
which  were  at  that  time  for  sale,  and  to  no  other  manuscript  or  writ 
ing  whatsoever ;  and  further,  I  declare  that  no  such  person  as  '  Maria 
B.'  was  ever  known  to  me,  but  that  I  wrote  the  letters  received  from 
'  Maria  B.'  by  Lady  Herbert  Arden,  and  that  I  withdrew  her  answers 
myself  from  the  general  post-office.  And  if  I  have  done  anything 
else  to  strengthen  the  false  accusation  against  the  said  Pietro  Nobile 


404  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

Ghisleri  such  as  may  hereafter  come  to  light,  this  present  retraction 
and  denial  shall  be  held  to  cover  it  by  anticipation.  And  hereunto 
I  set  my  hand  and  seal  in  the  presence  of  Don  Giovanni  Saracinesca, 
Prince  of  Sant'  Ilario,  of  Don  Giovanni  Saracinesca,  Marchese  di 
San  Giacinto,  and  of  Don  Gianforte  Campodonico  di  Norba,  who 
in  my  presence  and  in  the  presence  of  each  other  are  witnesses  of 
this  act." 

San  Giacinto  ceased  reading,  and  looked  at  his  two 
companions.  Campodonico  was  grave,  but  Sant'  Ilario 
smiled. 

"  If  you  can  make  her  sign  that,  you  are  stronger  than 
I  supposed,  Giovanni,"  said  the  latter. 

"  So  it  seems  to  me,"  said  Gianforte. 

"I  do  not  think  she  will  offer  much  resistance," 
answered  San  Giacinto,  quietly  pocketing  the  confes 
sion  and  the  document  he  had  just  read.  "  I  suppose 
what  I  am  going  to  do  is  unscrupulous,  but  I  do  not 
think  that  Donna  Adele  has  shown  any  uncommon  deli 
cacy  of  feeling  in  this  little  affair.  Let  us  go  and  see 
whether  she  has  any  objection  to  signing  her  name." 

Don  Tebaldo,  the  priest,  and  Bonifazio  followed  the 
three  gentlemen  in  a  cab  to  the  Palazzo  Savelli,  and  all 
five  went  up  the  grand  staircase  together.  Neither  Don 
Tebaldo  nor  the  servant  had  received  any  instructions 
beyond  being  told  that  if  they  were  called  into  the  room 
when  the  reading  took  place,  they  were  to  answer  truth 
fully  any  questions  which  might  be  put  to  them. 

Prince  Savelli  met  them  all  in  an  outer  drawing- 
room,  the  same  indeed  in  which  poor  Herbert  Arden 
had  talked  with  Francesco  a  few  days  before  his  death. 
He  was  coldly  courteous  to  San  Giacinto,  but  greeted 
the  others  somewhat  more  warmly. 

"  May  I  ask  what  the  nature  of  your  communication 
is  ?  "  he  inquired  of  the  former. 

"I  prefer  to  explain  it  in  the  presence  of  Donna 
Adele,  as  it  concerns  her  directly,"  answered  San  Gia 
cinto  :  "  It  is  useless  to  tell  a  story  twice." 

The  extremely  high  and  mighty  head  of  all  the  Savelli 
stared  up  at  the  giant  through  his  big  spectacles.  He 


PIETRO   GHISLEEI.  405 

was  not  at  all  used  to  being  treated  with  so  little  consid 
eration.  But  the  other  was  a  match  for  him,  and  stood 
carelessly  waiting  for  the  master  of  the  house  to  lead 
the  way. 

"Considering  whom  you  represent,"  said  the  Prince, 
"your  manner  is  somewhat  imperative." 

San  Giacinto's  heavy  brows  bent  in  an  ominous  frown, 
and  Savelli  found  it  impossible  to  meet  the  gaze  of  the 
hard,  deep-set  eyes  for  more  than  a  few  seconds. 

"I  represent  an  innocent  man,  whom  you  and  yours 
are  trying  to  ruin.  As  for  my  manners,  they  were 
learned  in  an  inn  and  not  in  Casa  Savelli.  I  shall  be 
obliged  if  you  will  lead  the  way." 

Sant'  Ilario  suppressed  a  smile.  He  had  seen  his 
strong  cousin  in  more  than  one  such  encounter,  but  he 
had  never  seen  any  one  resist  him  long.  Savelli  did  not 
reply,  but  turned  and  went  before  them  and  opened  the 
door.  They  passed  through  another  drawing-room  and 
through  a  third,  and  then  found  themselves  in  Adele's 
boudoir.  She  was  seated  in  a  deep  chair  near  the  fire, 
warming  her  transparent  hands  at  the  flame.  Her  face 
was  exactly  of  the  colour  of  the  yellow  ashes  of  certain 
kinds  of  wood.  It  seemed  impossible  that  any  human 
being  could  be  so  thin  as  she  seemed,  and  live.  But 
there  was  yet  some  strength  left,  and  her  strong  will, 
aided  by  the  silent  but  insane  satisfaction  she  felt  in 
Ghisleri's  ruin,  kept  her  still  in  a  sort  of  animation 
which  was  sometimes  almost  like  her  old  activity.  She 
had,  of  course,  been  warned  of  the  impending  interview, 
but  she  thought  that  San  G-iacinto  had  come  to  propose 
some  compromise  to  the  advantage  of  Ghisleri,  and  her 
father-in-law  and  husband  were  inclined  to  share  her 
opinion;  she  meant  to  refuse  everything,  and  to  say  that 
she  would  abide  the  judgment  of  the  courts.  She  did 
not  rise  when  the  party  entered,  but  held  out  her  hand 
to  each  in  succession.  Francesco  Savelli  stood  beside 
her,  and  also  shook  hands  with  each,  but  made  no 
remark. 


406  PIETBO   GHISLEEI. 

"  Sit  down/'  said  Prince  Savelli,  moving  forward  a 
chair. 

"  Thank  you,"  answered  San  Giacinto,  "  but  it  is  use 
less.  We  shall  stay  only  long  enough  for  Donna  Adele 
to  sign  a  paper  I  have  brought  with  me.  We  do  not 
wish  to  disturb  you  further  than  necessary.  With  your 
permission  I  will  read  the  document." 

And  thereupon,  standing  before  her,  he  read  it  slowly 
and  distinctly.  Prince  Savelli  gradually  turned  pale,  for 
he  knew  the  man,  and  guessed  that  he  possessed  some 
terribly  sure  means  of  enforcing  his  will.  But  Adele 
laughed  scornfully  and  her  husband  followed  her  ex 
ample. 

"Is  there  any  reason  why  I  should  sign  that  very 
singular  and  untrue  declaration  ?  "  she  asked,  with  con 
tempt. 

San  Giacinto  looked  at  her  steadily  for  a  moment,  and 
without  reasoning  she  began  to  feel  afraid. 

"  I  have  a  strong  argument  in  my  pocket,"  he  said. 
"  For  I  have  your  confession  here,  and  the  priest  with 
whom  it  has  been  deposited  since  the  day  it  was  found 
is  waiting  in  the  hall,  if  you  wish  to  see  him." 

Adele  shook  from  head  to  foot,  and  her  hands  moved 
spasmodically.  She  made  a  great  effort,  however,  and 
succeeded  in  speaking. 

"  The  fact  that  it  has  been  in  a  place  where  Ghisleri 
knew  how  to  find  it  is  the  last  proof  of  his  guilt  we 
required,"  she  said,  mechanically  repeating  the  words  she 
had  heard  her  father-in-law  use  more  than  once. 

"  Ghisleri  never  saw  it  and  never  knew  where  it  was 
until  yesterday,"  answered  San  Giacinto.  "  If  you  will 
oblige  me  by  signing  this  paper,  I  will  not  trouble  you 
any  further." 

"  I  will  not  sign  it,  nor  anything  of  such  a  nature," 
said  Adele,  desperately. 

"  You  are  perfectly  free  to  do  as  you  please,"  answered 
San  Giacinto.  "And  so  am  I.  Since  you  positively 
refuse,  there  is  nothing  left  for  me  to  do  but  to  go  away. 


PIETEO    GHISLERI.  407 

But  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  the  humble  person  who 
found  it  was  able  to  read,  and  read  it,  before  taking  it 
to  the  priest,  and  that  he  has  informed  me  most  minutely 
of  the  contents.  I  see  you  are  annoyed  at  that,  and  I 
am  not  surprised,  for  in  half  an  hour  it  will  be  in  the 
hands  of  the  attorney-general.  Good  morning,  Princess." 

In  the  dead  silence  that  followed  one  might  have 
heard  a  pin  fall,  or  a  feather.  San  Giacinto  waited  a  few 
moments  and  then  turned  to  go.  Instantly  Adele  uttered 
a  sharp  cry  and  sprang  to  her  feet.  With  a  quickness 
of  which  no  one  present  would  have  believed  her  capable, 
she  was  at  his  side,  and  holding  him  back  by  the  arm. 
He  turned  again  and  looked  calmly  down  at  her. 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  do  what  you  threaten  ?  "  she 
cried,  in  abject  terror. 

"  I  mean  to  take  this  sealed  document  to  the  attorney- 
general  without  losing  a  moment,"  he  answered.  "  You 
know  very  well  what  will  happen  if  I  do  that." 

Both  Savelli  and  his  son  came  forward  while  he  was 
speaking. 

"  I  will  not  allow  you  to  hint  in  my  house  that  anything 
in  that  confession  could  have  any  consequences  to  my 
daughter-in-law,"  said  the  Prince,  in  a  loud  voice.  "  You 
have  no  right  to  make  any  such  assertions." 

"  If  Donna  Adele  Avishes  it,  I  will  break  the  seal  and 
read  her  own  account,"  answered  San  Giacinto.  He  put 
his  hand  into  the  breast  pocket  of  his  coat  and  drew  out 
the  packet. 

Altogether  losing  control  of  herself,  Adele  tried  to 
snatch  it  from  his  hand,  but  he  held  it  high  in  air,  and 
his  vast  figure  towered  above  the  rest  of  the  group,  still 
more  colossal  by  the  gesture  of  the  upstretched  arm. 

"  You  see  for  yourselves  what  importance  Donna 
Adele  attaches  to  this  trifle,"  he  said,  in  deep  tones. 
"  You  would  do  well  to  persuade  her  to  sign  that  paper. 
That  is  the  only  exchange  I  will  take  for  what  I  hold. 
She  knows  that  every  word  written  there  is  true  —  as 
true  as  every  word  she  has  written  here,"  he  added, 


408  PIETKO   GHISLERI. 

glancing  up  at  the  sealed  letter.  "  I  will  wait  one  minute 
more  by  that  clock,  and  then  I  will  go." 

The  two  Savelli  gazed  at  Adele  in  undisguised  aston 
ishment  and  horror.  It  was  clear  enough  from  her  face 
and  terrified  manner  that  San  Giacinto  spoke  the  truth, 
and  that  the  confession  he  held  contained  some  awful 
secret  of  which  they  were  wholly  ignorant. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this,  Adele  ?  "  asked  the 
Prince,  sternly.  "  What  does  that  confession  contain  ?  " 

But  she  did  not  answer,  as  she  sank  into  a  chair  before 
the  table,  and  almost  mechanically  dipped  a  pen  into 
the  ink.  San  Giacinto  laid  the  formal  denial  before  her, 
holding  the  confession  behind  him,  for  he  believed  her 
capable  of  snatching  it  from  him  and  tossing  it  into  the 
fire  at  any  moment.  She  signed  painfully  in  large,  slop 
ing  characters  that  decreased  rapidly  in  size  at  the  end 
of  each  of  her  two  names.  The  pen  fell  from  her  hand 
as  she  finished,  and  San  Giacinto  quietly  laid  the  sealed 
letter  before  her.  If  she  had  been  on  the  point  of 
fainting,  the  sight  recalled  her  to  herself.  She  seized  it 
eagerly  and  broke  the  seals,  one  after  the  other.  Then 
she  went  to  the  fire,  assured  herself  that  the  sheets 
were  all  there,  and  were  genuine,  and  thrust  the  whole 
into  the  flames,  watching  until  the  last  shred  was  con 
sumed. 

Meanwhile  San  Giacinto  silently  handed  the  pen  to 
Sant'  Ilario,  who  signed  and  passed  it  to  Gianforte.  He 
in  his  turn  gave  it  to  San  Giacinto,  and  the  transaction 
was  concluded.  The  two  cousins,  as  though  by  common 
instinct,  glanced  at  the  page  on  which  was  written  twice 
"Giovanni  Saracinesca,"  and  each  thought  of  all  the  pain 
and  anxiety  the  coincidence  had  caused  in  days  long 
gone  by.  The  last  time  they  had  signed  a  document 
together  had  been  in  the  study  of  the  Palazzo  Montevar- 
chi  more  than  twenty  years  earlier,  when  they  were  still 
young  men. 

"  You  see  for  yourselves,"  said  San  Giacinto,  turning 
to  the  two  Savelli  as  he  neatly  folded  the  paper,  "  that 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  409 

Donna  Adele  desires  no  further  explanation,  and  wishes 
the  contents  of  the  letter  she  has  burned  to  remain  a 
secret.  So  far  as  I  am  concerned  I  pledge  my  word 
never  to  divulge  it,  nor  to  hint  at  it,  and  I  have  reason 
to  believe  that  those  who  are  acquainted  with  it  will  do 
the  same.  So  far  as  one  man  can  answer  for  another,  I 
will  be  responsible  for  them.  With  regard  to  the  finding 
of  the  letter  and  to  the  manner  of  its  being  kept  so  long, 
I  leave  Don  Tebaldo,  the  parish  priest  of  .  Gerano,  to 
explain  that.  You  can  question  him  at  your  leisure. 
Our  mission  is  accomplished,  and  Pietro  Ghisleri's  inno 
cence  is  established  for  ever.  That  is  all  I  wished. 
Good  morning." 

After  burning  the  confession  Adele  had  let  herself  fall 
into  the  deep  chair  in  which  she  had  been  sitting  when 
the  three  friends  entered  the  room.  Her  head  had  fal 
len  back,  and  her  jaw  dropped  in  a  ghastly  fashion.  She 
looked  as  though  she  were  dead ;  but  her  hands  twitched 
convulsively,  rising  suddenly  and  falling  again  upon  her 
knees.  It  was  impossible  to  say  whether  she  was  con 
scious  or  not. 

The  two  Savelli,  father  and  son,  stood  on  the  other 
side  of  the  fireplace  and  looked  at  her,  still  speechless  at 
her  conduct,  which  they  could  only  half  understand,  but 
which  could  mean  nothing  but  disgrace  to  her  and  dis 
honour  to  them.  The  elder  man  seemed  to  suffer  the 
more,  and  he  leaned  heavily  against  the  chimney-piece, 
supporting  his  head  with  his  hand.  Neither  the  one 
nor  the  other  paid  any  attention  to  the  three  men  as  they 
silently  left  the  room. 

San  Giacinto  begged  Don  Tebaldo  to  wait  a  short  time, 
and  then  to  send  a  messenger  inquiring  whether  the 
Prince  wished  to  see  him,  and  if  not,  to  return  at  once  to 
the  palace  in  which  San  Giacinto  lived.  Then  he  took 
Bonifazio  with  him  as  well  as  Campodonico  and  Sant' 
Ilario,  and  went  at  once  to  Ghisleri's  lodging.  They 
found  him  breakfasting  alone  in  a  rather  sketchy  fashion, 
for  Bonifazio  had  not  been  allowed  by  San  Giacinto  to 


410  PIETBO   GHISLERI. 

return  to  his  master  until  everything  was  accomplished. 
He  showed  some  surprise  when  he  opened  the  door  him 
self,  and  found  the  three  together  on  the  landing. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter  ?  "  he  inquired,  as  he  ushered 
them  into  the  sitting-room,  where  he  had  been  taking  his 
meal. 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  San  Giacinto,  "  we  have  come 
to  tell  you  that  nothing  is  the  matter.  This  paper  may 
amuse  you  j  but  it  is  worth  keeping,  as  Campodonico  and 
my  cousin  can  testify,  for  their  names  appear  in  it  as 
witnesses." 

Ghisleri  read  the  contents  carefully,  and  they  could  see 
how  his  brow  cleared  at  every  word. 

"  You  have  been  the  best  friend  to  me  that  any  man 
ever  had,"  he  said,  grasping  San  Giacinto's  huge  hand. 

"  You  could  have  done  it  quite .3,3  well  yourself,  only  I 
knew  you  would  not  do  it  at  all,"  answered  the  latter. 
"  I  have  no  scruples  in  dealing  with  such  people,  nor  do 
I  see  why  any  one  should  have  any.  But  you  would  have 
gone  delicately  and  presented  Donna  Adele  with  the  con 
fession,  and  then  when  she  had  burned  it  before  your 
eyes,  you  would  have  told  her  that  you  trusted  to  her 
sense  of  justice  to  right  you  in  the  opinion  of  the 
world." 

Ghisleri  laughed.  He  was  so  happy  that  he  would 
have  laughed  at  anything.  After  giving  him  a  short 
account  of  what  had  taken  place,  all  three  left  him,  go 
ing,  as  they  said,  to  breakfast  at  the  club,  and  inform  the 
world  of  what  had  happened.  And  so  they  did.  And 
before  the  clock  struck  eight  that  night,  Bonifazio  had 
received  a  hundred  visiting  cards,  each  with  two  words, 
"to  congratulate,"  written  upon  it  in  pencil,  and  four 
invitations  to  dinner  addressed  to  Pietro  Ghisleri.  For 
the  world  is  unconsciously  wise  in  its  generation,  and  on 
the  rare  occasions  when  it  has  found  out  that  it  has  made 
a  mistake,  its  haste  to  do  the  civil  thing  is  almost  inde 
cent.  In  eight  and  forty  hours  the  whole  Savelli  family 
and  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Gerano  had  left  Rome, 


PIETKO   GHISLERI.  411 

and  Ghisleri  found  it  hard  to  keep  one  evening  a  week 
free  for  himself. 

But  in  the  afternoon  of  that  day  on  which  San  Giacinto 
had  so  suddenly  turned  the  tables  upon  Pietro's  adver 
saries,  Pietro  went  to  see  Laura  Arden.  She,  of  course, 
was  in  ignorance  of  what  had  occurred,  and  was  amazed 
by  the  change  she  saw  in  his  face  when  he  entered. 

"Something  good  has  happened,  I  am  sure!'7  she 
exclaimed,  as  she  came  half-way  across  the  room  to  meet 
him  with  outstretched  hands. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  something  very  unexpected  has  hap 
pened.  The  confession  has  been  found,  Donna  Adele  has 
admitted  that  the  whole  story  was  a  fabrication,  and 
she  has  signed  a  formal  denial  of  every  accusation,  past, 
present,  and  to  come.  I  am  altogether  cleared." 

"  Thank  God  !  Thank  God  !  "  Laura  cried,  wringing 
his  two  hands,  and  gazing  into  his  eyes. 

"  You  are  glad,"  he  said.  "  I  suppose  I  knew  you  would 
be,  but  I  could  not  realise  that  it  would  make  so  much 
difference  to  you." 

"In  one  way  it  makes  no  difference,"  she  said  more 
quietly,  as  she  sat  down  and  pointed  to  his  accustomed 
place.  "  I  knew  the  truth  from  the  beginning.  But  it 
is  for  you.  I  saw  how  unhappy  you  were  yesterday. 
Now  tell  me  all  about  it." 

He  told  her  all  that  had  taken  place  since  he  had  left 
her  on  the  previous  day,  as  it  has  been  told  in  these 
pages,  and  his  heart  beat  fast  as  he  saw  in  her  eyes  the 
constant  and  great  interest  she  felt. 

"And  so  I  am  quite  free  of  it  all  at  last,"  he  said, 
when  he  had  finished. 

"  And  you  will  be  happy  now,"  answered  Laura,  softly. 
"You  have  been  through  almost  everything,  it  seems  to 
ine.  Do  you  realise  how  much  I  know  of  all  your  life  ? 
It  is  strange,  is  it  not  ?  You  are  not  fond  of  making 
confidences,  and  you  never  made  but  one  to  me,  when 
you  could  not  help  yourself.  Yes ;  it  is  very  strange 
that  I  should  know  so  much  about  you." 


412  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

"  And  still  be  willing  to  call  me  your  friend  ?  "  added 
Ghisleri.  "  I  do  not  know  how  you  can  —  and  yet  —  "  He 
stopped.  "  The  reason  is,  "  he  said  suddenly,  "  that  you 
have  long  been  a  part  of  my  life  —  that  is  why  you  know 
me  so  well.  I  think  that  even  long  ago  we  were  much 
more  intimate  than  we  knew  or  dreamed  of.  There  were 
many  reasons  for  that." 

"Yes,"  Laura  answered.  "And  then,  after  all,  I  have 
known  you  ever  since  I  first  went  out  as  a  young  girl. 
I  did  not  like  you  at  first,  I  remember,  though  I  could 
never  tell  why.  But  as  for  your  saying  that  you  cannot 
see  why  I  should  still  be  your  friend,  I  do  not  understand 
how  you  mean  it.  It  seems  to  me  that  you  have  done 
much  to  get  my  friendship  and  to  strengthen  it,  and 
nothing  to  lose  it.  Besides,  you  yourself  know  that  you 
are  not  what  you  were.  You  have  changed.  You  were 
saying  so  only  yesterday,  and  you  said  the  change  was 
for  the  better." 

"  Yes,  I  have  changed,"  said  Ghisleri.  "  It  is  of  no  use 
to  deny  it.  I  do  not  mean  in  everything,  though  I  do 
not  lead  the  life  I  did.  Perhaps  it  all  goes  together 
after  all." 

"  That  is  not  very  clear,"  observed  Laura,  with  a  low 
laugh. 

Ghisleri  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  I  do  not  think  of  you  as  I  did,"  he  said.  "  That  is  the 
greatest  change  of  all." 

Laura  did  not  answer.  She  leaned  back  in  her  seat, 
and  looked  across  the  room. 

"  I  never  thought  it  would  come,"  he  said.  "  For  years 
I  honourably  believed  I  could  be  your  friend.  I  know, 
now,  that  I  cannot.  I  love  you  far  too  deeply  —  with 
far  too  little  right." 

Still  Laura  did  not  speak.  But  she  turned  her  face 
from  him,  laying  her  cheek  against  the  silken  cushion 
behind  her. 

"  Perhaps  I  am  doing  very  wrong  in  telling  you  this," 
said  Ghisleri,  trying  to  steady  his  voice.  "But  I  made 


PIETEO   GHISLERI.  413 

up  my  mind  that  it  was  better,  and  more  honest.  I  do 
not  believe  that  you  love  me,  that  you  ever  can  love  me 
in  the  most  distant  future  of  our  lives.  I  am  prepared 
for  that.  I  will  not  trouble  you  with  my  love.  I  will 
never  speak  of  it  again  —  for  I  can  never  hope  to  win 
you.  But  at  least  you  know  the  truth." 

Slowly  Laura  turned  her  face  again  and  her  eyes  met 
his.  There  was  a  deep,  warm  light  in  them.  She  seemed 
to  hesitate.  Then  the  words  came  sharply,  in  a  loud, 
clear  voice,  unlike  her  own,  as  though  the  great  secret 
had  burst  every  barrier  and  had  broken  out  against  her 
will  by  its  own  strength,  sudden,  startling,  new  to  herself 
and  to  the  man  who  heard  it. 

"  I  love  you  now  !  " 

Ghisleri  turned  as  deadly  pale  as  when  Gianforte's 
bullet  had  so  nearly  gone  through  his  heart.  The  words 
rang  out  in  the  quiet  room  with  an  intensity  and  distinct 
ness  of  tone  not  to  be  described.  He  had  not  even 
guessed  that  she  might  love  him.  For  one  moment  they 
looked  at  one  another,  both  white  with  passion,  both 
trembling  a  little,  the  black  eyes  and  the  blue  both 
gleaming  darkly.  Then  Ghisleri  took  the  two  hands 
that  were  stretched  out  to  meet  his  own,  and  each  felt 
that  the  other's  were  very  cold.  As  though  by  a  com 
mon  instinct  they  both  rose,  and  stood  a  moment  face  to 
face.  Then  his  arms  went  round  her.  He  did  not  know 
until  long  afterwards  that  when  he  kissed  her  he  lifted 
her  from  the  ground. 

It  had  all  been  sudden,  strange,  and  unlike  anything 
in  his  whole  life,  unexpected  beyond  anything  that  had 
ever  happened  to  him.  Perhaps  it  was  so  with  her,  too. 
They  remembered  little  of  what  they  said  in  those  first 
moments,  but  by  and  by,  as  they  sat  side  by  side  on  the 
sofa,  words  came  again. 

"I  knew  it  when  you  went  away  last  summer,"  said 
Ghisleri.  "And  then  I  thought  I  should  never  tell  you." 

"  And  I  found  it  out  when  I  left  you,"  answered  Laura. 
"I  found  that  I  could  not  live  without  you  and  be  happy. 


414  PIETKO   GHISLERI. 

Did  you  guess  nothing  when  I  made  you  come  to  me 
yesterday  ?  Yesterday  —  only  yesterday  !  It  seems  like 
last  year.  Did  you  think  it  was  mere  friendship  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  thought  it  was  that  and  nothing  more  —  but 
such  friendship  as  I  had  never  dreamed  of." 

"Nor  any  one  else,  perhaps,"  said  Laura,  with  a  happy 
smile.  "  For  I  would  have  come,  you  know,  in  spite  of 
every  one.  What  would  you  have  done  then,  I  wonder  ?  " 

"  Then  ?  Do  not'  speak  of  yesterday.  What  could  I 
have  done  ?  Could  I  have  told  you  that  I  loved  you  with 
such  an  accusation  hanging  over  me  ?  No,  you  know 
that.  It  was  only  yesterday  that  I  asked  you  to  let  me 
leave  you  rather  suddenly  —  did  you  not  guess  the  rea 
son  ?  " 

"I  thought  you  were  ill  —  no  —  well,  it  crossed  my 
mind  that  you  might  be  a  little,  just  a  little,  in  love  with 
me."  She  laughed. 

"  I  felt  ill  afterwards.  I  was  horrified  when  I  thought 
how  nearly  I  had  spoken." 

"  And  why  should  you  not  have  spoken,  if  it  was  in 
your  heart  ?  "  asked  Laura,  taking  his  hand  again.  "  Why 
should  you  have  thought,  even  for  a  moment,  that  I  could 
care  what  people  said.  You  are  you,  and  I  am  I,  whether 
the  world  is  with  us  or  against  us.  And  I  think,  dear, 
that  we  shall  need  the  world  very  little  now.  Perhaps 
it  will  change  its  mind  and  pretend  it  needs  us." 

"There  is  no  doubt  of  that.  It  always  happens  so. 
Why  should  we  care  ?  "  He  paused  a  moment,  then,  as  his 
eyes  met  hers,  the  great  dominating  passion  broke  out 
again  :  "Ah — darling  —  heart's  heart — beloved !  There 
are  not  words  to  tell  you  how  I  love  you  and  bless  you, 
and  worship  you  with  all  my  soul.  What  can  I  say,  what 
can  I  do,  to  make  you  understand  ?  " 

"Love  me,  dear,"  she  said,  "and  be  faithful,  as  I  will 
be."  And  their  lips  met  again. 

They  loved  well  and  truly.  Strange,  some  may  say, 
that  a  love  of  that  good  kind  should  have  begun  in  friend 
ship  on  the  one  side,  and  indifference  if  not  dislike  on 


PIETEO   GHISLERI.  415 

the  other.  But  neither  had  understood  the  other  at  all 
in  the  beginning.  The  world-tired  and  world-weary  man 
had  not  guessed  at  the  real  woman  who  lived  so  humanly, 
and  could  love  so  passionately,  and  whom  nature  had 
clothed  with  such  saint-like,  holy  beauty  as  to  make  her 
seem  a  creature  above  all  earthly  feeling  and  all  mortal 
weakness.  Her  eyes  had  seemed  fixed  on  far-distant, 
heavenly  sights,  gazing  upon  the  world  only  to  wonder 
at  its  vanity  and  to  loathe  its  uncleanness.  Her  best  and 
her  greatest  thoughts  had  been,  he  fancied,  of  things 
altogether  divine  and  supernatural,  of  love  celestial,  of 
beatific  vision,  of  the  waters  of  paradise,  of  goodness  and 
of  God.  And  something  of  all  this  there  was  in  her,  but 
there  was  room  for  more  both  in  heart  and  soul,  and  more 
was  there — the  deep,  human  sympathy,  the  simple 
strength  to  love  one  man  wholly,  the  singleness  of 
thought  and  judgment  to  see  the  good  in  him  and  love 
it,  and  to  understand  and  forgive  the  bad — and  far  down 
in  the  strong,  quiet  nature  was  hidden  the  passion  but 
newly  awakened  whose  irresistible  force  would  have 
broken  every  barrier  and  despised  every  convention,  re 
specting  only  its  own  purity  in  taking  what  it  loved  and 
desired,  and  would  have  at  any  cost,  save  the  defilement 
of  the  soul  it  moved.  Small  wonder  that  when  it  awoke 
at  last  unresisted  and  meeting  its  like,  it  burst  into  sight 
with  a  sudden  violence  that  startled  the  woman  herself, 
and  amazed  the  man  who  had  not  suspected  its  exist 
ence. 

But  she,  on  her  side,  had  learned  to  know  him  more 
slowly,  not  ever  analysing  him,  nor  trying  to  guess  at 
his  motives,  but  merely  seeing  little  by  little  how  great 
and  wide  was  the  discrepancy  between  the  hard,  scepti 
cal,  cynic  thoughts  he  expressed  so  readily,  and  the  con 
stant,  unchangingly  brave  effort  of  his  heart  to  do  in  all 
cases  what  was  honourable,  just,  and  brave  according  to 
his  light.  She  saw  him  ever  striving,  often  failing,  some 
times  succeeding  in  the  doing  of  good  actions,  and  she 
saw  the  strange  love  of  truth  and  simplicity  which  per- 


416  PIETEO   GHISLERI. 

vaded  and  primarily  moved  the  most  complicated  char 
acter  she  had  ever  known.  He  who  at  first  had  seemed  to 
her  the  most  worldly  of  all  worldly  men,  was  in  reality  one 
whose  whole  life  was  lived  in  his  own  heart  for  the  one, 
or  two,  or  three  beings  who  had  known  how  to  touch  it. 
To  all  else  he  was  absolutely  and  coldly  indifferent.  She 
had,  indeed,  as  she  said,  guessed  at  last  that  he  loved  her 
a  little  and  more  than  a  little,  and  she  had  known  for 
months  before  he  spoke  that  he  was  really  a  part  of  her 
life  and  of  all  her  thoughts  and  actions.  But  she  had 
not  asked  herself  what  she  would  do  or  say  when  the 
great  moment  came,  any  more  than  she  had  accused 
herself  of  being  unfaithful  to  the  memory  of  the  man 
whose  dying  words  had  bidden  her  to  be  happy,  if  she 
would  have  him  rest  in  peace.  And  now  that  she  loved 
again,  so  differently,  so  passionately,  so  much  more 
humanly,  she  realised  all  the  great  unselfishness  of  him 
who  was  gone  and  who  had  not  been  willing  to  leave  in 
her  heart  the  least  seed  of  future  self-accusation  or  the 
least  ground  for  refusing  anything  good  which  life  might 
have  in  store  for  her.  She  saw  that  she  could  take  what 
was  offered  her,  freely,  without  one  regret,  without  one 
prick  of  conscience,  or  one  passing  thought  that  Herbert 
Arden  would  have  suffered  an  instant's  pain  could  he 
have  known  what  was  passing  in  the  existence  of  the 
woman  who  had  loved  him  so  well. 

Late  on  that  afternoon,  Ghisleri  went  to  see  Madda- 
lena  dell'  Armi.  There  was  a  drop  of  bitterness  in  his 
cup  yet,  and  something  hard  for  him  to  do,  but  he  would 
not  let  the  woman  who  had  sacrificed  everything  for  him 
in  days  gone  by  learn  the  news  from  a  stranger. 

"  I  have  come  to  tell  you  that  I  am  going  to  marry 
Lady  Herbert  Arden,"  he  said  gently,  as  he  took  her 
hand. 

She  looked  up  quickly,  and  for  a  moment  he  felt  a 
strange  anxiety. 

"  I  knew  that  you  would,  long  ago,"  she  answered. 
"I  am  glad  of  it.  No,  do  not  think  that  is  a  phrase. 


PIETKO  GH1SLERI.  417 

I  do  not  love  you  any  more.  Are  you  glad  to  know  it  ? 
I  wish  I  did.  But  I  am  far  too  fond  of  you  not  to  wish 
you  to  be  happy  if  you  can.  You  are  my  dearest  and 
best  friend.  It  is  strange,  is  it  not  ?  Think  of  me 
kindly  sometimes,  in  your  new  life.  And  —  and  do  not 
speak  my  name  before  her,  if  you  can  help  it.  She 
knows  what  we  were  to  each  other  once,  and  it  might 
hurt  her." 

"  How  changed  you  are  !  "  exclaimed  Ghisleri.  But 
he  pressed  the  hand  that  lay  near  him. 

"I  am  trying  to  be  a  good  woman,"  she  answered 
simply. 

"  If  there  were  more  like  you,  the  world  would  be  a 
better  place,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

"JusT  fancy,  my  dear,"  exclaimed  Donna  Maria 
Boccapaduli  to  the  Marchesa  di  San  Giacinto  on  the 
evening  of  the  following  day,  "  Pietro  Ghisleri  is  going 
to  marry  Laura  Arden,  after  all !  That  horrid,  spiteful, 
wicked  Adele  will  die  of  rage.  And  they  say  that  the 
old  uncle  is  dead  and  has  left  Laura  one  of  those  enor 
mous  English  fortunes  one  reads  about,  and  they  are 
going  to  take  the  first  floor  of  your  brother's  palace  — 
your  husband  says  he  will  buy  it  some  day  —  I  hope  he 
will  —  and  Laura  is  going  to  rebuild  Ghisleri's  queer 
little  castle  in  Tuscany.  What  a  delightful  series  of 
surprises !  And  two  days  ago  every  one  believed  he  was 
on  the  point  of  being  sent  to  prison  for  ever  so  many 
years.  But  I  was  always  sure  he  was  innocent,  though 
of  course  one  did  not  like  to  have  him  about  while  the 
thing  was  going  on." 

"  Giovanni  said  from  the  first  that  it  was  all  an  abom 
inable  lie,"  answered  the  Marchesa.  "  And  Giovanni  is 
generally  right.  What  a  charming  house  it  will  be  !  Of 
course  they  will  give  balls." 

2E 


418  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

"They  say  that  in  the  confession  there  was  a  full 
account  of  the  way  in  which  she  started  the  story  of 
the  evil  eye — what  nonsense  it  was!  You  have  only 
to  look  into  Laura  Arden's  eyes  —  do  you .  think  she  is 
as  beautiful  as  Corona  Saracinesca  ever  could  have 
been  ?  » 

"No,  no,"  exclaimed  the  Marchesa,  who  had  known 
the  Princess  of  Sant'  Ilario  more  than  twenty  years 
earlier.  "  No  one  was  ever  so  beautiful  as  Corona. 
Laura  is  much  shorter,  too,  and  that  makes  a  difference. 
Laura  reminds  one  of  a  saint,  and  Corona  looked  an  em 
press —  or  what  empresses  are  supposed  to  be  like.  But 
Laura  is  a  beautiful  woman.  There  is  no  one  to  com 
pare  with  her  now  but  Christina  Campodonico,  and  she  is 
too  thin.  What  a  good  looking  couple  Ghisleri  and  his 
wife  will  make.  He  has  grown  younger  during  the  last 
two  years." 

"No  wonder  —  when  one  thinks  of  the  life  he  used  to 
lead.  Every  time  he  quarrelled  with  Maddalena  he 
used  to  get  at  least  five  pounds  thinner.  I  wonder  how 
she  takes  it." 

"She  is  far  too  clever  a  woman  to  show  what  she 
thinks.  But  I  know  she  has  not  cared  for  him  for  a 
long  time.  They  have  not  quarrelled  for  two  years 
at  least,  so  of  course  there  cannot  be  any  love  left 
on  either  side.  They  still  sit  in  corners  occasionally. 
I  suppose  they  like  each  other.  It  is  very  odd.  But  I 
shall  never  understand  those  things." 

The  last  remark  was  very  true,  for  Elavia  Saracinesca 
loved  her  giant  husband  with  all  her  heart  and  always 
had,  and  she  knew  also  that  Maria  Boccapaduli  was  the 
best  of  wives  and  mothers,  if  she  was  also  the  greatest 
of  gossips. 

What  the  two  ladies  said  to  each  other  represented 
very  well  the  world's  opinion,  hastily  formed,  on  the  spur 
of  the  moment,  to  meet  the  exigencies  of  the  altered 
situation,  but  immutable  now.  It  shrugged  its  shoulders 
as  it  referred  to  its  past  errors  of  judgment,  and  said  that 


PIETRO   GHISLEKI.  419 

it  could  not  have  been  expected  to  know  that  Adele 
Savelli  was  raving  mad  when  she  was  allowed  to  go 
everywhere  just  like  a  sane  being,  although  her  eyes  had 
undeniably  had  a  wild  look  for  some  time,  and  she  might 
have  been  taken  for  a  galvanised  corpse.  For  of  course 
it  was  now  quite  certain  that  she  had  been  out  of  her 
mind  from  the  very  beginning,  seeing  that  she  had  con 
cocted  her  dreadful  plot  without  the  slightest  reason. 
As  for  the  old  story  that  Laura  Arden  loved  Francesco, 
that  was  downright  nonsense !  It  was  another  of  Adele's 
scandalous  falsehoods — or  insane  delusions,  if  you  chose 
to  be  so  good-natured  as  to  use  that  expression.  If  any 
thing,  it  was  Francesco  who  loved  Laura,  and  he  ought 
to  be  ashamed  of  himself,  considering  what  a  fortune  his 
wife  had  brought  him.  But  human  nature  was  very 
ungrateful,  especially  when  it  bore  the  name  of  Savelli. 
They  did  not  seem  at  all  thankful  for  that  dear  Ghisleri's 
forbearance.  He  could  have  brought  an  action  against 
them  for  any  number  of  things  —  defamation,  false  im 
prisonment —  almost  anything.  But  he  had  acted  with 
his  usual  generosity,  and  told  every  one  that  he  had 
always  believed  Adele  to  be  insane,  and  bore  no  one  the 
least  ill-will,  since  he  had  been  put  to  no  inconvenience 
whatever,  thanks  to  San  Giacinto's  timely  action.  And, 
said  the  world,  when  a  man  consistently  behaved  as 
Pietro  Ghisleri  had  done,  he  was  certain  to  get  his  reward. 
What  could  any  man  desire  more  than  to  have  that  dear, 
beautiful,  good  Laura  Arden  for  his  wife,  especially  since 
she  was  so  immensely  rich  ?  Doubt  the  justice  of  Heaven 
after  that,  if  you  could  !  As  for  the  world,  it  meant  to  tell 
them  both  how  sorry  it  was  that  it  had  misunderstood 
them.  Of  course  it  would  be  sinful  not  to  hope  that 
Adele  might  some  day  get  well,  but  she  had  her  deserts, 
and  if  she  ever  came  back  to  society,  people  would  not 
care  to  meet  her.  She  might  go  mad  again  at  any  mo 
ment  and  try  to  ruin  some  one  else,  and  might  succeed 
the  next  time,  too. 

That  was  the  way  in  which  most  people  talked  during 


420  PIETEO  GHISLEBI. 

the  season,  and  the  world  acted  up  to  its  words  as  it 
generally  does  when  there  are  balls  and  dinners  to  be 
got  by  merely  being  consistent.  It  was  much  more 
agreeable,  too,  to  live  on  terms  of  pleasant  intercourse 
with  Laura  and  her  betrothed,  and  much  easier,  because 
it  is  always  tiresome  to  keep  up  a  prejudice  against 
really  charming  people. 

But  Adele  was  not  mad  as  people  said,  and  as  the  two 
families  gave  out.  There  had  undoubtedly  been  a  strain 
of  insanity  through  all  her  conduct,  and  that  might,  some 
day,  develop  into  real  madness.  She  was  sane  enough 
still,  however,  to  suffer,  and  no  such  merciful  termination 
to  her  sufferings  as  the  loss  of  her  reason  would  be 
seemed  at  all  imminent.  The  strong  will  and  acute 
intelligence  had  survived,  for  the  poisonous  drug  she 
loved  had  attacked  the  body,  which  was  the  weaker  por 
tion  of  her  being.  Adele  was  hopelessly  paralysed. 
The  last  great  effort  had  been  too  much  for  the  over 
strung  nerves.  Her  hands  still  moved  convulsively,  but 
she  could  not  direct  them  at  all.  Her  jaw  had  dropped, 
as  it  almost  always  does  in  advanced  cases  of  morphinism, 
and  her  lower  limbs  were  useless.  Day  after  day  she 
sat  or  lay  before  the  fire  in  her  room  at  Castel  Savello, 
as  she  might  remain  for  years,  tended  by  paid  nurses, 
and  helpless  to  do  the  slightest  thing  for  herself  — 
through  the  short  days  and  the  long  nights  of  winter, 
hardly  cheered  by  the  sunshine  when  spring  came  at 
last,  longing  for  the  end.  It  was  indeed  a  dreadful 
existence.  Nothing  to  do,  nothing  to  think  of  but  the 
terrible  black  past,  nothing  to  occupy  her,  save  the 
monotonous  tracing  back  of  her  present  state  to  her  first 
misdeeds,  step  by  step,  inch  by  inch,  in  the  cold  light  of 
an  inexorable  logic.  It  was  hard  to  believe  what  her 
confessor  told  her,  that  she  should  be  grateful  for  having 
time  and  reason  left  to  repent  of  what  she  had  done,  and 
to  expiate,  in  a  measure,  the  evil  of  her  life.  As  yet, 
that  was  the  only  comfort  she  got  from  any  one.  She 
had  disgraced  the  name  of  Savelli,  she  was  told,  and  no 


PIETKO   GHISLEKI.  421 

suffering  could  atone  for  that.     She  felt  that  she  was 
hated  and  despised,  and  that  although  everything  which 
money   could   do   was   done   to   prolong   her    wretched 
being,  her  death  was  anticipated  as  a  relief  from   her 
detested  presence  in  the  household  upon  which  she  had 
brought  such  shame.     It  would  be  hard   to  conceive  a 
more  fearful  punishment  than  she  was  made  to  undergo, 
forcibly  kept  alive  by  the  constant  care  and  forethought 
of  the  most  experienced  persons,  and  allowed  only   just 
so  much  of   the  morphia  as  was  positively  necessary. 
She  had  no  longer  the  power  to  grasp  the  little  instru 
ment.     If  she  had  been  able  to  do  that,  she  would  have 
found   rest   for   ever,   as   she   told   herself.     And   they 
cruelly  diminished  the  dose,  though  they  would  not  tell 
her  by  how  much.     She  would  live  longer,  they  said,  if 
the  quantity  could  be  greatly  reduced.     She  begged,  im 
plored,  entreated   them  not  to   torture   her.     But  they 
could  hardly  understand  what  she  said,  for  the  paralysis 
had  made  her  speech  indistinct,  and  even  if  they  could 
have    distinguished  the  meaning  of  all  her  words  they 
would  have  paid  no  attention  to  them.     The  orders  were 
strict  and  were  rigidly  obeyed  in  every  particular.     She 
was  to  be  made  to  live  as  long  as  possible,  and  life  meant 
torment,  unceasing,  passing  words  to  describe.     How  long 
it  might  last   she   had   no   idea.     She  could  only  hope 
against  hope   that   it   might   end  soon.     The   news   of 
Laura's  engagement  and  approaching  marriage  had  been 
kept  from  her  for  some  time,  it  being  feared  that  it  might 
agitate  her,  but  she  was  told  at  last,  and  the  knowledge 
of  her  step-sister's  happiness  was  an  added  bitterness  in 
what  remained  to  her  of  life.    Vividly  she  saw  them  before 
her,  Laura  in  her  fresh  beauty,  Ghisleri  in  his  strength, 
little  Herbert   with   his   father's  eyes  — the  eyes   that 
haunted  Adele  Savelli  by  night  and  gazed  upon  her  by 
day  out  of  the  shadowy  corners  of  her  room.     The  three 
were  ever  before  her  moving,  as  she  fancied,  through 
a  garden  of  exquisite  flowers,  in  a  clear,  bright  light. 
That  was  doubtless  the  way  in  which  her  diseased  brain 


422  PIETRO   GHISLEKI. 

represented  their  happiness,  for  she  had  loved  flowers  in 
the  old  days,  and  had  associated  everything  that  was 
pleasant  with  them  in  her"  thoughts.  But  she  hated 
them  now,  as  she  hated  everything,  even  to  her  own 
children,  whom  she  refused  to  see  because  they  reminded 
her  of  better  times,  and  her  step-mother,  whom  she  was 
obliged  to  receive  because  the  good  lady  would  take  no 
denial.  The  Princess  was,  indeed,  one  of  her  most 
regular  and  kindly  visitors.  A  very  constant  and  good 
woman,  she  would  not  and  could  not  turn  upon  Adele 
as  all  the  rest  had  done,  even  to  her  own  father,  who  in 
the  bitterness  of  his  heart,  had  said  that  he  would  never 
see  his  daughter  again,  alive  or  dead.  But  Adele  hated 
her  none  the  less,  and  dreaded  her  long  homilies  and  ex 
hortations  to  be  penitent,  and  the  little  printed  prayers 
and  books  of  devotion  she  generally  brought  with  her. 
For  the  Princess  was  deeply  concerned  for  the  welfare  of 
Adele's  soul,  and  being  very  much  in  earnest  in  the  matter 
of  religion,  she  did  what  she  could  to  save  it  according 
to  her  own  views.  Possibly  her  sermons  might  hereafter 
bear  fruit,  but  for  the  present  the  wretched  woman  who 
was  forced  to  listen  to  them  found  them  almost  unbear 
able.  And  so  her  unhappy  days  dragged  on  without 
prospect  of  relief  or  termination,  no  longer  in  any  real 
meaning  of  the  word  a  life  at  all,  but  only  a  consequence, 
the  result  of  what  she  had  made  herself  when  she  had 
been  really  alive. 

The  Princess  of  Gerano  was  the  last  person  won  over 
to  a  good  opinion  of  Ghisleri,  but  before  the  wedding  day 
she  had  formally  avowed  to  Laura  that  she  had  been  mis 
taken  in  him.  She  had  been  most  of  all  impressed  by 
his  dignity  during  the  very  great  difficulties  in  which  he 
had  been  placed,  and  by  his  gentle  forbearance  when  his 
innocence  had  been  established  and  when  no  one  would 
have  blamed  him  if  he  had  cursed  the  whole  Savelli  and 
Gerano  tribe  by  every  devil  in  Satan's  calendar.  Instead, 
he  had  uniformly  said  that  he  had  believed  Donna  Adele 
to  be  mad,  and  that  what  had  happened  had  therefore  not 


PIETRO   GHISLERI. 


423 


come  about  by  any  one's  fault.     She  told  Laura  that  there 
must  be  more  good  than  any  one  had  dreamt  of  in  a  man 
who  could  act  as  Pietro  did  under  the  circumstances,  and 
perhaps  she  was  right.     At  all  events,  she  was  convinced 
and  having  once  reached  conviction  she  took  him  to  her 
heart  and  found  that  he  was  a  man  much  more  to  her 
taste  and  much  more  worthy  of  Laura  than  she  had  sup 
posed.     For  the  rest,  the  match  was  an  admirable  one. 
Ghisleri  was  certainly  very  far  from  rich,  but  he  was  by 
no  means  a  pauper,  and  what  he  possessed  had  been 
wisely  administered.     He  was  neither  a  prince,  nor  the 
son  of  a  princely  house,  but  there  was  many  a  prince  ot 
Europe,  and  more  than  one  of  the  Holy  Empire,  too, 
whose  forefathers  had  been  trudging  behind  the  plough 
long  after  the  Nobili  Ghisleri  had  built  their  tower  and 
held  their  own  in  it  for  generations.     Then,  too,  whatever 
the  Princess  might  think  of  his  past  and  of  his  reputa 
tion,  he  had  rather  a  singular  position  in  society,  and  was 
respected  as  many  were  not,  who  possessed  ten  times  as 
many  virtues  as  he.     She  admitted  quite  frankly  that  she 
had  been  wrong,  and  she  made  ample  amends  for  her 
former  cold  treatment  of  him  by  the  liking  she    now 

showed. 

« I  shall  never  be  able  to  think  of  you  as  a  serious 
married  man,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Gouache  one  day 
when  Ghisleri  was  lounging  in  the  studio  with  a  cigarette, 
after  they  had  breakfasted  together. 

"  I  hope  you  will,"  was  the  laconic  answer. 

"  No,  I  never  shall.  I  have  always  had  a  sort  of  artis 
tic  satisfaction  in  your  character  —  for  there  was  much 
that  was  really  artistic  about  you,  especially  as  regards 
your  taste  in  sin,  which  was  perfect  and  perhaps  is  still. 
But  marriage  is  not  at  all  artistic,  my  dear  Ghisleri,  until 
it  becomes  unhappy,  and  the  husband  goes  about  with  a 
revolver  in  every  pocket,  and  the  wife  with  a  scent  bottle 
full  of  morphia  in  hers,  and  they  treat  each  other  with 
distant  civility  in  private,  and  with  effusive  affection 
when  a  third  person  is  present,  especially  the  third  per- 


424  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

son  who  has  contributed  the  most  to  producing  the  artistic 
effect  in  question.  Then  the  matter  becomes  interesting." 

"  Like  your  own  marriage,"  suggested  Ghisleri,  with  a 
laugh.  Gouache  and  Donna  Faustina  had  not  had  an 
unkind  thought  for  one  another  in  nearly  twenty  years  of 
cloudless  happiness. 

"  Ah,  my  friend,  you  must  not  take  my  case  as  an  in 
stance.  There  is  something  almost  comic  in  being  as 
happy  as  I  am.  We  should  never  make  a  subject  for  a 
play  writer,  my  wife  and  I,  nor  for  a  novelist  either.  No 
man  would  risk  his  reputation  for  truthfulness  by  describ 
ing  our  life  as  it  is.  But  then,  is  there  anything  artistic 
about  me?  Nothing,  except  that  I  am  an  artist.  If  I 
had  any  money  I  should  be  called  an  amateur.  To  be  an 
artist  it  is  essential  to  starve  —  at  one  time  or  another. 
The  public  never  believe  that  a  man  who  has  not  been 
dangerously  hungry  can  paint  a  picture,  or  play  the  fid 
dle,  or  write  a  book.  If  I  had  money  I  would  still  paint 
—  subjects  like  Michael  Angelo's  Last  Judgment  with 
the  souls  of  Donna  Tullia,  Del  Ferice,  and  Donna  Adele 
Savelli  frying  prominently  on  the  left,  and  portraits  of 
my  wife  and  myself  in  the  foreground  on  the  right  with 
perfectly  new  crowns  of  glory  and  beatific  smiles  from 
ear  to  ear.  If  you  go  on  as  you  have  been  living  since 
the  reformation  set  in,  you  will  have  to  bore  yourself  on 
our  side  too,  with  a  little  variation  in  your  crown  to 
show  what  a  sinner  you  have  been." 

"I  am  quite  willing  to  be  bored  in  your  way,"  an 
swered  Ghisleri,  laughing  again. 

The  marriage  took  place  late  in  February,  to  the  im 
mense  delight  of  the  world,  and  with  the  unanimous 
applause  of  all  society.  The  newspapers  gave  minute 
accounts  of  all  the  gowns,  and  of  all  the  people  who  wore 
them,  and  surprised  Ghisleri  by  informing  him  that  his 
ancestors  had  been  Guelphs,  whereas  he  had  some  reason 
to  believe  that  they  had  been  Ghibellines,  and  by  creating 
him  a  commander  of  the  order  of  Saint  Maurice  and  Saint 
Lazarus,  whereas  he  was  an  hereditary  Knight  of  Malta. 


PIETRO   GHISLERI. 


425 


The  description  of  Laura  was  an  extraordinary  contri 
bution  to  the  literature  of  beauty,  and  left  nothing  to  be 
desired  except  a  positive  or  two  to  contrast  with  the  end 
less  string  of  superlatives. 

Ghisleri  and  Laura  left  Borne  with  a  little  caravan  of 
servants.  Neither  the  faithful  Donald  nor  the  equally 
faithful  Bonifazio  could  be  left  behind,  and  there  was 
Laura's  maid,  and  little  Herbert's  nurse,  both  indispensa 
ble.  The  boy  was  overjoyed  by  the  arrangement  which 
gave  him  the  advantage  of  Pietro's  society  "for  every 
day,"  as  he  expressed  it,  and  especially  at  the  prospect  of 
living  all  the  summer  in  a  real  castle.  He  was  three 
years  old  and  talked  fluently,  when  he  talked  at  all  — a 
strong,  brave-looking  little  fellow,  with  clear  brown  eyes 
and  a  well-shaped  head,  set  on  a  sturdy  frame  that  prom 
ised  well  for  his  coining  manhood.  Ghisleri  delighted  in 
him,  though  he  was  not  generally  amused  by  very  small 
children.  But  they  always  came  to  him  of  their  own  ac 
cord,  which  some  people  say  is  a  sign  of  a  good  disposition 
in  a  man,  for  children  and  animals  are  rarely  mistaken  in 
their  likes  and  dislikes. 

San  Giacinto  and  Gianforte  Campodonico  went  to  the 
station  to  see  them  off  after  the  wedding,  and  threw  arm- 
fuls  of  roses  and  lilies  of  the  valley  into  the  carriage 
before  the  door  was  finally  shut  by  the  guard  as  the  pre 
liminary  bell  was  sounded. 

"  Without  you  two,  we  two  should  not  be  here,"  said 
Ghisleri,  as  he  shook  hands  with  them  both. 

"No,"  added  Laura  happily.  "But  we  should  have 
been  together,  if  it  had  been  in  prison.  Good-bye,  dear 
friends." 

The  train  moved  away,  and  the  two  men  were  left  on 
the  platform,  waving  their  hats  to  the  last. 

"  That  is  a  good  thing  well  done,"  said  San  Giacinto, 
lighting  a  cigar.  "They  will  be  happy  together." 

"Yes,"  said  Gianforte,  thoughtfully.  "I  think  they 
will.  Women  love  that  man,  and  he  knows  how  to  love 
them." 


426  PIETRO    GHISLERI. 

San  G-iacinto  looked  down  at  him  arid  said  nothing. 
He  knew  something  of  Bianca  Corleone's  short,  sad  life, 
and  of  what  had  passed  between  her  brother  and  Ghis- 
leri.  He  liked  them  both  more  than  almost  any  of  the 
younger  men  he  knew,  and  he  honestly  admired  them 
for  their  behaviour  towards  each  other.  He  guessed 
what  thoughts  were  passing  through  Campodonico's 
mind  as  he  looked  after  the  train  that  was  bearing  away 
Pietro  Ghisleri,  a  married  man  at  last. 

For  Gianforte  was  saying  to  himself  that  though  he 
could  neither  wholly  forget  nor  freely  forgive  the  past, 
he  could  have  loved  him  had  fate  been  different.  If  ten 
years  ago  Ghisleri  could  have  married  Bianca,  and  if 
Bianca  could  have  lived,  the  two  would  have  been  happy, 
for  even  Gianforte  admitted  that  both  had  loved  truly 
and  well  until  the  end.  But  that  was  a  dream  and 
reality  had  raised  the  impassable  barrier  between  men 
who  might  have  been  firm  friends.  Their  hands  might 
stretch  across  it,  and  grasp  one  another  from  time  to 
time,  and  their  eyes  might  read  good  faith  and  the  will 
to  be  generous  each  in  the  other's  soul,  but  nearer  than 
that  they  could  never  be,  for  the  sake  of  the  beautiful 
dead  woman  who  would  not  be  forgotten  by  either. 

One  more  picture  and  one  word  more,  and  the  curtain 
must  fall  at  last. 

In  the  early  summer  Laura  and  her  husband  were  at 
Torre  de'  Ghisleri  in  the  Tuscan  hills.  The  small  castle 
was  very  habitable  as  compared  with  its  former  condition, 
and  small  as  it  was  by  comparison  with  such  fortresses 
as  Gerano,  was  by  no  means  the  mere  ruined  tower 
which  many  people  supposed  it  to  be.  The  square  grey 
keep  from  which  it  took  its  name  was  flanked  by  a  mass 
of  smaller  buildings,  irregular  and  of  different  epochs, 
all  more  or  less  covered  with  ivy  or  with  creepers  now 
in  bloorn.  The  wide  castle  yard,  in  the  midst  of  which 
stood  the  ancient  well  with  its  wonderfully  wrought 
yoke  of  iron,  its  heavy  chain,  and  its  two  buckets,  had 
been  converted  into  a  garden  long  ago  for  the  bride  of 


PIETKO    GHISLERI. 


427 


some  Ghisleri  of  those  days,  and  the  plants  and  trees 
had  run  almost  wild  for  a  hundred  years,  irregularly,  as 
some  had  survived  and  others  had  perished  in  the  winter 
storms.  Here  a  cypress,  there  an  oak,  further  on  again 
three  laurels,  of  the  Laura  Kegia  kind,  side  by  side  in  a 
row,  then  two  cypresses  again,  growing  up  straight  and 
slim  and  dark  out  of  a  plot  of  close-cut  grass.  And 
there  were  roses  everywhere,  and  stiff  camelia  trees  and 
feathery  azaleas  and  all  manner  of  bright,  growing 
things  without  order  or  symmetry,  beautiful  in  their 
wildness.  But  in  and  out  there  were  narrow  paths,  in 
which  two  might  walk  together,  and  these  were  now 
swept  and  cared  for  as  they  had  never  been  in  Pietro's 
bachelor  days.  Other  things  were  changed  too,  but  not 
much,  and  for  the  better.  A  woman's  hand  had  touched, 
had  waked  a  sweet  new  life  in  the  old  place. 

The  afternoon  sun,  still  above  the  low  surrounding 
hills,  cast  the  shadow  of  the  tower  across  the  lawn  and 
upon  the  flowers  beyond.  There  were  chairs  before  the 
arched  doorway,  and  a  garden  table.  Laura  sat  watching 
the  swallows  as  they  flew  down  from  the  keep  to  the  garden 
and  upwards  again  in  their  short,  circling  flight.  A  book 
she  had  not  even  thought  of  reading  lay  beside  her.  At 
her  elbow  sat  Ghisleri  in  a  white  jacket,  with  a  straw 
hat  tilted  over  his  eyes  which  little  Herbert  was  trying 
to  get  at,  as  he  rode  on  Pietro's  knee.  The  man's  face 
had  changed  wonderfully  during  the  last  six  months. 
All  the  hardness  was  gone  from  it,  and  the  contemptuous, 
discontented  look  that  had  once  come  so  readily  was 
never  seen  now. 

"  You  never  told  me  it  was  so  beautiful,"  said  Laura, 
still  watching  the  swallows  and  gazing  at  the  flowers. 
"  When  we  first  came,  and  I  looked  out  of  the  window  in 
the  morning,  I  thought  I  had  never  seen  any  place  so 
lovely.  You  used  to  talk  of  it  in  such  a  careless  way." 

"  It  is  you  who  make  it  beautiful  for  me,"  answered 
Ghisleri.  "  A  year  ago  it  seemed  dull  and  ugly  enough, 
when  I  used  to  sit  here  and  think  of  you." 


428  PIETRO   GHISLERI. 

"I  was  not  the  first  woman  you  had  thought  of,  on 
this  very  spot,  I  daresay,"  said  Laura,  with  a  happy 
laugh. 

"  No,  dear,  you  were  not."  He  smiled  as  he  admitted 
the  fact.  "  But  you  were  the  last,  and  unless  you  turn 
out  to  be  as  bad  as  you  seem  to  be  good,  you  will  have 
no  successor." 

"What's  successor  mean?"  lisped  Herbert,  desisting 
from  his  attempt  to  get  at  the  hat  and  listening. 

"Somebody  who  comes  after  another,"  answered  Laura. 
"  I  will  try  to  be  good,  dear,"  she  said  to  Ghisleri,  laugh 
ing  again. 

"  So'll  I,"  exclaimed  Herbert  promptly,  doubtless  sup 
posing  that  it  was  expected  of  him. 

"  Yes,"  said  Ghisleri,  thoughtfully.  "  I  have  sat  here 
many  a  time  for  hours,  dreaming  about  you,  and  wishing 
for  you,  and  trying  to  see  you  just  as  you  are  now,  in  a 
chair  beside  me.  Yes,  I  have  thought  of  other  women 
here,  but  it  is  very  long  since  I  wished  to  see  one  there 
—  if  I  ever  did.  I  hardly  ever  came  here  when  I  was 
very  young." 

There  was  a  pause.  His  voice  had  a  little  sadness  in 
it  as  he  spoke  the  last  words  —  not  the  sadness  of  regret, 
but  of  reverence.  He  was  thinking  of  Bianca  Corleone. 
Then  Laura  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  and  her  eyes 
met  his,  for  he  turned  as  he  felt  her  touch. 

"Dear,  you  would  have  been  happy  with  her,"  she 
said  very  gravely.  "  But  I  will  be  all  to  you  that  woman 
can  be  to  man,  if  I  live  to  show  you  how  I  love  you." 

"  No  woman  ever  was  what  you  are  to  me  already,"  he 
answered.  "No  woman,  living  or  dead.  You  have  done 
everything  for  me  since  I  first  knew  you  well,  and  you 
did  much  more  than  you  know  before  I  knew  what  you 
really  were.  There  can  be  nothing  in  the  world  beyond 
what  you  have  given,  and  give  me." 

"  I  wish  I  were  quite,  quite  sure  of  that,"  said  Laura, 
still  looking  into  his  face. 

"  You  must  be  — you  shall  be  ! "  he  said,  with  suddea 


PIETRO   GHISLEKI.  429 

energy,  and  his  glance  lightened  with  passion.  "You 
must.  Words  are  not  much,  I  know,  nor  oaths,  nor 
anything  of  that  sort.  But  I  will  tell  you  this  —  and  by 
the  light  and  goodness  of  God,  it  is  true.  If  I  could 
doubt  for  one  moment  that  I  love  you  beyond  any  love  I 
have  ever  dreamed  of,  I  would  tear  out  my  heart  with 
my  hands ! " 

"What's  love?"  asked  little  Herbert  timidly,  for  he 
was  afraid  that  it  must  be  something  very  dreadful  as 
he  watched  Ghisleri's  pale  faice  and  blazing  eyes. 

But  the  lips  that  might  have  answered  could  not; 
they  were  sealing  the  truth  they  had  spoken,  upon 
others  that  had  uttered  a  doubt  for  the  last  time. 


THE    END. 


LIST  OF  WORKS 

BY 

MR.  F.  MARION    CRAWFORD. 


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CHRYSOMELA.  A  Selection  from 
the  Lyrical  Poems  of  Robert 
Herrick.  Arranged  by  F.  T.  PAL- 
GRAVE. 

SELECTED  POEMS  OF  MAT 
THEW  ARNOLD. 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  CHRIS 
TIANS  AND  MOORS  IN 
SPAIN.  By  CHARLOTTE  M. 
YONGE. 

LAMB'S  TALES  FROM  SHAKE 
SPEARE.  Edited  by  the  Rev- 

A.    AlNGER. 


GOLDEN     TREASURY     SERIES. 


UNIFORMLY  PRINTED  IN  i8MO,  WITH  VIGNETTE  TITLES 
ENGRAVED  ON  STEEL. 

New  and  Cheaper  Edition.     $f.oo  each  -volume. 


SHAKESPEARE'S  SONGS  AND 
SONNETS.  Edited,  with  Notes, 
by  F.  T.  PALGRAVE. 

POEMS  OF  WORDSWORTH. 
Chosen  and  Edited  by  MATTHEW 
ARNOLD. 

POEMS  OF  SHELLEY.  Edited 
by  STOPFORD  A.  BROOKE. 

THE  ESSAYS  OF  JOSEPH  AD- 
DISON.  Chosen  and  Edited  by 
JOHN  RICHARD  GREEN. 

POETRY  OF  BYRON.  Chosen  and 
Arranged  by  MATTHEW  ARNOLD. 

SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE'S  RE- 
LIGIO  MEDICI,  ETC.  Edited 
by  W.  A.  GREENHILL. 

THE  SPEECHES  AND  TABLE- 
TALK  OF  THE  PROPHET 
MOHAMMED.  Chosen  and 
Translated  by  STANLEY  LANE 
POOLE. 

SELECTIONS  FROM  THE  WRIT 
INGS  OF  WALTER  SAVAGE 
LANDOR.  Edited  by  SIDNEY 
COLVIN. 

SELECTIONS  FROM  COWPER'S 
POEMS.  With  an  Introduction 
by  Mrs.  OLIPHANT. 


LETTERS  OF  WILLIAM  COW- 
PER.  Edited  by  Rev.  W.  BEN  HAM. 

THE  POETICAL  WORKS  OF 
JOHN  KEATS.  Edited  by  F.  T. 
PALGRAVE. 

THE  TRIAL  AND  DEATH  OF 
SOCRATES.  Translated  into  Eng 
lish  by  E.  J.  CHURCH,  M.A. 

CHILDREN'S  TREASURY  OF 
ENGLISH  SONG.  Edited  by  F. 
T.  PALGRAVE. 

IN  MEMORIAM. 

TENNYSON'S  LYRICAL  POEMS. 
Edited  by  F.  T.  PALGRAVE. 

PLATO,  PH^EDRUS,  LYSIS,  AND 
PROTAGORAS.  Translated  by 
Rev.  J.  WRIGHT. 

THEOCRITUS,  BION,  AND 
MOSCHUS.  In  English  Prose. 
By  ANDREW  LANG,  M.A. 

BALLADEN  UND  ROMANZEN. 
Edited  by  C.  A.  BUCHHEIM,  Ph.D. 

LYRIC  LOVE.  Edited  by  WILLIAM 
WATSON. 

HYMNS  AND  OTHER  POEMS. 
By  F.  T.  PALGRAVE. 

THE  ART  OF  WORLDLY  WIS 
DOM.  BALTHASAR  GRACIAN. 


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13  1931 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


